The Hero We Deserve
by Random Equinox
Summary: Humans are being abducted, probably because someone has really poor taste. Shepard has to find out why and stop them with the help of a band of misfits. They say it's a suicide mission. So what else is new? Well, getting killed for starters...
1. I Was Having Such a Nice Day

_**Editorial Note**_

_I am quite gratified and pleased at the reception towards the first compilation of Commander Shepard's logs. Curiously, responses to these logs fell into three distinct and disparate categories. The first category consists of readers who viewed the compilation as an amusing piece of fiction or a well-written bit of 'light reading.' A small fraction of readers responded with what I can only call barely restrained hostility, accusing me of libel and a lack of patriotism or loyalty. I can only speculate that those groups, for their own reasons, chose to cherish the image of Shepard over the truth. _

_On the other hand, a slim minority of readers noted Shepard's frequent claims of self-serving behaviour and ulterior motives. While acknowledging that these revelations affected the myth and legend that had sprung up around Shepard, they also came to value the insight and understanding into Shepard's character, and considered the logs as proof that Shepard was a silent guardian, a watchful protector, and a true hero._

_In the interests of shedding further light onto Shepard, his character and his activities, I have edited another compilation of logs for distribution to those with the appropriate levels of security clearance. Once again, I merely added footnotes and reports, in order to provide a broader perspective wherever necessary, and separated the logs into chapters for easier reading. The majority of this narrative—with its opinions, concerns and perspectives—come from Shepard's own words._

_David Anderson_

_Councillor, Citadel Council_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: I Was Having Such a Nice Day<strong>

People—and not just civvies—often claim to hate boredom. **(1) **They complain how much they loathe it, how they'd prefer to do _something_, to get some _action_. I think they're nuts. Boredom is great, in my opinion. I never get enough of it. So you might understand why I was pleasantly surprised by how boring my present mission was.

It was a month after the "Battle of the Citadel". Humanity had been invited to join the Council. I'd recommended Anderson for the post of human councillor, though TPTB had yet to make a formal decision. Partly because Citadel space as we knew it was still reeling at the fact that anyone would dare to make a run at the Citadel and come so close to getting away with it. Partly because TPTB couldn't get anything done fast unless their lives depended on it. They much preferred to pretend everything was business as usual.

Case in point: the whole idea that the attack had been sparked by the Reapers—an ancient race of beings that had built the Citadel and the mass relays. They'd been popping up every fifty thousand years or so to wipe out all advanced forms of sentient life for the fun of it until their last victims, the Protheans, thwarted their usual scheme. Once they realized that they couldn't recycle the same plan they'd been using for countless millennia, they improvised using a bunch of agents, including former Spectre Saren Arterius and the geth. Thanks to my bumbling and this idiotic heroic reputation I'd been saddled with since Elysium, I got swept up in the whole disaster and had to save the day.

Anyways, TPTB much preferred the notion that Saren went nuts on his own and hired a bunch of geth to wreak havoc, as this Reaper thing scared the crap out of them. So that's the story they stuck to. And to prevent me from saying otherwise, they sent me and the Normandy off to hunt down the last few pockets of geth.

Fine by me. We scoured the Attican Traverse with a fine-toothed comb, and got nothing but a single geth dropship for our trouble—which was delightfully easy to take out. I took advantage of this time to relax, maintain my weapons and listen to some jazz. I even managed to get caught up on my paperwork, believe it or not.

By the end of the month, we had moved into the Terminus Systems. Technically, that was outside our jurisdiction, and if anyone caught us, we could trigger hostilities between the Citadel races and the Terminus Systems. But that was what our handy-dandy stealth systems were for. Business as usual.

Or so I thought.

The day started innocuously enough. Got up. Did my morning exercises. Showered. Had breakfast. Read my vid-mail before starting my usual rounds touring the Normandy and harassing the crew. Most of the unread messages were boring stuff. Or spam.

There was only one interesting message. Reports of Alliance ships hunting geth in Citadel space had noted an unusually high rate of fire from the opposition. Investigation discovered that the geth were modifying their weapons with detachable heat sinks. This allowed them to redirect the heat generated from weapons fire into these heat sinks, eject them once they were saturated, and insert a new one. As a result, they could fire at a faster rate without pausing to vent excess heat or cool their weapons down. The author of the message recommended that organic armies adopt the use of these heat sinks to counter the improved efficiency of geth weapons. Given how these detachable heat sinks allowed a finite number of shots, he proposed to call them "thermal clips".

Interesting idea, but it probably wouldn't pass muster. Bean counters wouldn't allow it.

Closing my terminal, I donned my old N7 hardsuit, the one I was issued upon graduating from Basic. Just on a whim, to relieve the monotony of an otherwise delightfully boring day. Having successfully stalled for another ten minutes, I headed up to the command deck. We had been exploring the Omega nebula for the past couple days. Yesterday, we finished searching the Fathar system. Today, we were going to poke around the Amada system. Woohoo.

"Disengaging FTL drives," I heard Joker report as I entered the CIC. **(2)** "Emissions sinks active. Board is green, we are running silent."

"Pressly," I greeted my XO. "How're things going?"

"Fine, aside from the fact that we're wasting our time," Pressly replied while signing off on the daily maintenance logs. "Four days searching up and down this sector and we haven't found any sign of geth activity."

"Three ships went missing here in the past month," Joker pointed out, pulling up the relevant logs to verify his statement. "Something happened to them."

"Any intel on who might be responsible?" I asked Joker. He shook his head.

"My money's on slavers," Pressly stated firmly. "The Terminus Systems are crawling with them."

"Picking up something on the long-range scanner," Ensign Draven interrupted before I could respond. "Unidentified vessel." She accessed the ladar imaging system to get a better look at the silhouette. "Hmm. Looks like a cruiser."

Joker glanced at the appropriate computer panel. "Doesn't match any known signatures."

That was the point where my paranoid streak stirred from its month-long hibernation.

"Cruiser is changing course," Draven continued. "Now on intercept trajectory."

Pressly glanced at Draven incredulously, moved to an empty computer console and tapped into the sensor systems. "Can't be," he said, despite the readouts that clearly said otherwise. "Stealth systems are engaged. There's no way a geth ship could possibly—"

"It's not the geth," Joker interrupted. The tension in his voice echoed the sudden screaming from my paranoid streak. "Brace for evasive manoeuvres," he yelled.

We jinked to port then dove starboard, trying to dodge the weapons fire that spat out from the unidentified cruiser. It looked like some sort of focused particle beam, but no one used those kinds of weapons. The energy requirements, which were at least a thousand times greater than a traditional mass accelerator, tended to discourage their use by most sapients.

Then the beam, or whatever it was, grazed the top of the Normandy.

The computer console Pressly was using exploded in his face. As fire enthusiastically roared from the console, Pressly staggered back a step before collapsing to the ground. "Pressly!" Draven called out, rising from her seat to check on him. The cruiser hit us with a second shot, rocking the Normandy to the side and knocking her off-balance. She clipped the edge of the seat with enough force to knock her out.

"Kinetic barriers down," Joker called out as Draven fell to the deck besides Pressly. The Normandy was shaking like it was suffering a seizure or something. "Multiple hull breaches," he continued as panel after panel exploded into flames. "Weapons offline. Somebody get that fire out!"

I wasn't available to help, as I was already running down the stairs to Deck Two. The cold hard facts belied any cowardice behind my actions: less than a minute since we detected that cruiser, and it had already crippled us. There was no way we'd be able to fight back. As much as I hated to admit it, it was time to abandon ship. But I had to do a couple things first. Burden of command and all that.

I raced through the mess hall, passed the console that Kaidan spent every other hour tinkering with, ran the gauntlet of sleeper pods to the emergency situation console and frantically started entering commands. Behind me, I felt the cruiser hit us one, two, three times. I heard emergency sirens blare out as I continued typing away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the main lights were offline, leaving only the emergency breakers and the fires that had started just about everywhere to provide some semblance of illumination. A man cried out in pain as yet another piece of equipment exploded. Gritting my teeth, I ignored the urge to turn around and kept working.

"Shepard," Kaidan called out as I finished. By this point, we were venting all sorts of compressed gases, most of which weren't very healthy. Plus, the smoke was starting to get thick. I put on my helmet and engaged the seals before turning around. I took a deep breath of fresh air, and then opened my mouth. "Distress beacon's ready for launch."

"Will the Alliance get here on time?" he asked, sealing his own helmet. Another hit knocked him off his feet. I caught him before he sent us both sprawling on the ground in a most un-heroic fashion. "The Alliance won't abandon us," I replied, dodging the question. Glancing around, I saw a couple fires that were getting too close to the emergency situation console. If that thing blew, we wouldn't be able to launch the distress beacon or officially issue the evacuation order. Grabbing a fire extinguisher, I tossed it to Kaidan. "We just need to hang on," I continued, grabbing another extinguisher and putting out the nearest fire. "Get everyone onto the escape shuttles." **(3)**

"Joker's still in the cockpit," Kaidan told me, copying my actions. "He won't abandon ship." He paused before adding "I'm not leaving, either."

Oh for crying out loud.

"I need you to get the crew onto the evac shuttles," I repeated. "I'll take care of Joker." Another explosion rocked the ship, dislodging a couple wires. Key wires apparently, given how the display panel on the emergency situation console suddenly developed a bad case of static.

"Commander..." Kaidan began.

"Kaidan, go," I interrupted. I paused to look at him. "Now."

"Aye, aye," Kaidan said after a pause.

Reconnecting the wires, I stumbled over to the console and slapped a big red button. This simultaneously launched the distress beacon and activated the evac alarms.

As the new alarms blared, I saw the crew start to head for the shuttles. Kaidan opened the hatch to one. "Everybody in," he ordered, waving his arm in a circular motion towards the hatch. "Go, go, go!" About three or four people, including Dr. Chakwas, dove in and locked themselves in their seats. Kaidan waited for another female crewman who we could see running towards us. She was a couple metres away when the ship rocked under another hit, sending her flying through the air with a screech. Her cry ended abruptly when she hit the deck head-first. The sickening crack, coupled with the unnatural angle of her head to the rest of her body, told us that she wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Stifling a curse, Kaidan clambered into the shuttle, latched himself in and hit the launch button. I glimpsed their faces, tense and scared, before the hatch closed shut.

Time to get Joker, I decided. I was just starting to head for the command deck when another console exploded into flame right in front of me. Staggering back, I managed to regain my balance and start walking again.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday," I heard Joker call out over the comm systems. He must have accidentally triggered both the intra-ship and long-range communications systems. "This is SSV Normandy."

I had to squint as I stumbled through the deck. There was so much smoke billowing through the corridors now, it made it very difficult to see where I was going. The muted lighting from the emergency breakers didn't do much to alleviate the situation. All I could see was smoke, fires, sparks, and the distinct impression that a lot of panels had buckled or cracked. Thankfully, after wasting so much time making daily rounds of the ship, I could navigate blindfolded.

"We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy," Joker continued as I turned left and started to head up the stairs, only to see that the passageway was blocked with a pile of debris. Making an about-face, I was relieved to see that the other stairs was clear.

"Come on baby, hold together," Joker urged as I jogged up the stairs. "Hold together!"

There was a hissing sound of escaping air as the doors to the command deck opened. I left Deck Two behind and entered the command deck.

At first, I wasn't sure if this was the same command deck I had left two or three minutes ago. That one was alive with colour and light from the holographic displays, computer consoles and lights. It was full of people sitting at their stations or moving around, focused on their work while indulging in the odd minute of idle conversation. There was always a certain warmth to all the hustle and bustle.

Now?

Now it was dead. The only lights came from a few pieces of equipment fitfully spitting sparks. The weapons from the cruiser had chewed completely through the hull above me, exposing the command deck to the vacuum of space. The 'ceiling' gaped open, with a few girders protruding out, like some beast gasping for air. As I watched, a panel detached from the hull and lazily spun off, briefly obscuring the stars that were blazing coldly at me.

Looking away, I started to plod my way to the cockpit, the mag-locks on my hardsuit boots keeping me from floating away. I was struck by how _empty_ it was in here. There was no one around. I know, I know, there shouldn't have been anyone, what with the evac alert and all. But still, to see things like this? It was like walking through a graveyard.

It didn't really help matters that I couldn't hear anything. I'd just come from a cacophony of alarms, roaring fires, and screaming crew mates. Now all I could hear was the clump of my boots mag-locking on the floor and my own heavy breathing.

Pushing aside a few chairs that had detached from the floor and were blocking the way, I was relieved to see a shimmering barrier curtain up ahead. The command deck had an emergency kinetic barrier installed between the cockpit and the CIC to protect the pilot in the event that air pressure was lost. It wasn't the best when it came to maintaining a breathable atmosphere, but at least it would keep Joker from dying of hypoxia. **(4)**

Arriving at the cockpit, I pushed my way through the barrier curtain. The first thing I noticed was the sudden return of sounds in the form of alarms. There were also lights, as the computer consoles were still working here, but I could see them on my approach, so I was already aware of them.

Joker was madly tapping away at the controls. He'd activated an emergency breathing system, which erected a kinetic bubble over his head like some kind of transparent helmet. Guess he didn't want to trust the air in the cockpit right now.

"Come on, Joker!" I yelled. "We have to get out of here!"

"No!" Joker immediately yelled back desperately. "I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!" **(5)**

I couldn't blame him. Not really. Seeing the Normandy crippled like this, dying in gasps and whimpers, really hurt. It hurt a lot, considering how I'd only lived on board for less than a year. Which meant Joker must've felt even worse, considering how his Vrolik's Syndrome made it almost impossible for him to leave the Normandy. He'd established a closer connection to the ship than anyone else, so the thought of abandoning her must've killed him. Not literally, though, unlike the fate we would surely suffer if we dawdled around here any longer.

"The Normandy's lost," I said sadly, trying to ignore the lump in my throat as I voiced my realization out loud. "Going down with the ship won't change that."

Joker's head drooped. "Yeah... okay," he said after a couple seconds. "Help me up."

I reached over and started to lift him out of his seat. As I did so, he happened to glance at the sensor display. His eyes widened. "They're coming around for another attack!" he warned.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a sudden flare of light stab into the darkness behind me. Letting go of him, I ran back to get a better look. A huge beam of light had punched its way into the command deck, churning up a pile of sparks and shrapnel.

And it was coming our way.

Aw crap.

I ran back to the cockpit and yanked Joker, who was frantically trying to manoeuvre the Normandy out away from the beam, out of the chair. "Ah! Watch the arm!" he protested.

"Thought your legs were brittle, not your arms," I cracked. For the first time, I thanked the designers of the Normandy for putting one of the escape shuttles next to the cockpit. The access hatch was along the starboard wall, between the co-pilot's chair and the barrier curtain. Slinging his arm over my shoulder, I hauled Joker to the access hatch, opened it up, helped him in and buckled him up.

I should have dived in after him. But, just at that point, an explosion erupted behind me. I paused for a second, glancing behind me to take a look.

And that was when a second explosion knocked me off my feet and sent me hurtling back into the cockpit.

I managed to grab the corner of a wall and stop myself before I went flying into the wall. By that point, though, the beam had caught up to us. It was now merrily sizzling away between me and the access hatch.

"Commander," Joker yelled out.

Well, clearly I wouldn't be getting out that way. Which only left Plan B. Bit of a gamble, but it was all I had left. The only thing I knew for certain was that Joker wouldn't be able to follow me. So I lunged forward.

Joker saw what I was doing. "Shepard!" he cried out, struggling in his seat.

I slapped the access hatch controls to seal him in and launch the shuttle before he could do anything stupid. Then I let go. My hope was that I would drift out of the Normandy, through that gaping hole above me and wait. My suit's life support systems should keep me alive in the vacuum of space until help arrived.

Then yet another explosion sent me flying through the air, bouncing off a wall and spinning out of the Normandy into space.

As I flew away, I managed to right myself and look back. The Normandy had gashes and tears everywhere, with fires flickering visibly like blood flowing from multiple wounds. Following that particular metaphor, it was clear that she had been decapitated, as the bow had been separated from the rest of the ship. The cruiser struck again and again, its beams carving into the Normandy. There was a cruel pause...

...and then she exploded.

I watched as the Normandy, my home, disintegrated into a conflagration of violent light and smoke. That bright flare disappeared all too quickly. Stifling a tear, I started to notice other things. Like the sheer amount of debris around me. And the fact that various pieces of the Normandy were still on fire even in the vacuum of space. And the hissing that I could hear...

Aw, crap.

Pulling up my hardsuit stats on my HUD, I could see that it had sprung a leak. Three of them, in fact—one just below my chin and two between my shoulder blades. Must've happened when I was bouncing out of the Normandy.

Looked like Plan B wouldn't be helping me out this time.

I frantically started flailing, slapping my hands over the ruptures in a vain attempt to stem the flow of much-needed oxygen. Stupid, I know. But no one was there to see me, so I didn't have to worry about acting in a heroic or sensible fashion.

As I struggled about, I noticed something else. One of the planets in the system seemed awfully big, and it was getting bigger by the second. It was getting hard to breathe. And think. But it occurred to me that maybe the planet was getting bigger because I had gotten caught in its gravity well and was now on a terminal descent vector.

Aw, crap.

Before I knew it, I had entered the atmosphere. In the back of my mind, I absent-mindedly noted that my hardsuit was starting to glow, and that things were getting awfully warm in here.

I think that was the last thought that surfaced before everything went black.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Most Alliance soldiers enjoy boredom as well. It's usually the senior officers who love conflict, mostly because they've forgotten how much stress and suffering occurs.<em>

_(2): Command Information Centre, where tactical information is displayed and processed__._

_(3): There has always been a debate over whether to call them escape pods or escape shuttles. Shepard uses the latter term here, which was the officially accepted term._

_(4): Even today, there is a misunderstanding that exposure to the vacuum of space will cause an unprotected organic to explode, freeze or boil to death. Rather, the change in pressure would cause any remaining air to leave the lungs. Any oxygen dissolved in the blood would leave the blood and enter the lungs. Once this deoxygenated blood hits the brain, the organic would soon lose consciousness and die._

_(5): It is common for humans and other organics to anthropomorphize their ship. Given how ships carry a crew from place to place, and provide the environment and resources to keep them alive, it is understandable how many crewmates come to assign a female gender to their ship, like a surrogate mother._


	2. Rude Awakenings

**Mass Effect 2: The Hero We Deserve**

**Chapter 2: Rude Awakenings**

After what seemed like an eternity, I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry.

"There," a female voice said. "On the monitor. Something's wrong."

Slowly things swam into focus. It looked like I was staring at a ceiling.

"He's reacting to outside stimuli," a second voice, male this time, observed. "Showing an awareness of his surroundings."

Who was that out there? Where was I? I started to look around. It was hard to move. And to breathe. I had to work to pull the air into my lungs.

"Oh my god, Miranda. I think he's waking up."

Somehow, I managed to lift my head up. The first person I saw was a dark-haired woman. She was wearing a white jumpsuit, with black running along the shoulders and down the sleeves. Tilting my head to the side, I saw a bald man stare at me.

"Damn it, Wilson," the woman, Miranda, I guess, said. "He's not ready yet. Give him the sedative!"

Ready for what? I tried to ask that, but couldn't. It was getting really hard to breathe. And I could feel something thumping. I tried to lift my hand, like some goody-two-shoes kid back at school.

"Shepard—don't try to move," Miranda said, gently pushing my arm back down. "Just be still. Try to stay calm."

Easy for you to say, lady, I wanted to say. You're not the one with blurred vision. You're not hyperventilating. Or feeling something pound faster and faster in your chest...

Wow. Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack?

"Heart rate still climbing," Wilson reported. "Brain activity is off the charts."

An electronic alarm started beeping, roughly in sync with the pounding in my chest. It occurred to me that maybe I should start to be a little concerned.

"Stats pushing into the red zone. It's not working!" Wilson said tensely.

"Another dose," Miranda ordered. "Now!"

I felt the sedative this time. The pounding in my chest started to subside. And I suddenly felt a lot weaker. Or tired. Either way, I let my head drop back down. Miranda caught my head and gently lowered it to the bed. "Heart rate dropping," I heard Wilson say. "Stats falling back into normal range. That was too close. We almost lost him."

Miranda turned her head towards him, an angry look flaring over her face. "I _told _you your estimates were off. Run the numbers again."

Then she looked back at me. She was the last person I saw before everything went black again.

* * *

><p>That was one heck of a sedative they gave me. Really knocked me out.<p>

The first thing I noticed when I woke up again was this dim roaring in the background. Couldn't see where it was coming from, as it was really dark in here. Wherever here was.

"_Wake up, Commander."_

Wake up? Why did I have to wake—

The ground suddenly shifted, rocking the bed or table or whatever I was on.

Never mind.

"_Shepard, do you hear me?"_ It was that voice again. Sounded like that woman I saw earlier. What was her name?

"_Get out of that bed now—this facility is under attack." _

So it was a bed. Could have fooled me, considering how hard it was. I opened my eyes, squinting at the light that suddenly streamed in. That would explain why it was so dark earlier. The next thing I noted was the sudden pain in my jaw. I lifted my hand to my face. Probing gingerly, I could feel how sore it was. I could also feel a bunch of scars running along the left side of my face.

"_Shepard,"_ the woman—Miranda! That's her name—said. _"Your scars aren't healed, but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack."_

Glancing around, I couldn't see Miranda. Guess she was calling over the loudspeakers or something. I started to get up, only to pause as a bolt of pain flared across the right side of my body. Gritting my teeth, I clamped a hand to my ribs and slowly pulled myself to an upright position. Looking around, I could see I was in a sick bay of some sort. Maybe a surgical room, judging by all the automated arms hovering over my head. Along the far wall, I could see fires. And bolts of light, probably tracer rounds from weapons fire.

"_There's a pistol and a suit of armour in the locker on the other side of the room,"_ Miranda interrupted my thoughts. _"Hurry!"_

Looking around, I saw the locker she was talking about and stumbled over. Opening it, I pulled out a N7 hardsuit. Looked a bit different than mine, and not just because it was brand-spanking new. Shrugging, I popped it open and started to pull it on."

"_You don't have time to wait around, Shepard,"_ Miranda spoke again, a hint of exasperation in her voice. For the first time, I noticed she had some sort of accent. Aussie, I guessed.

"Miranda, right?" I called back. "I'm going as fast as I can, but it takes a while to put this thing on. And to start it up," I added, selecting the activation button as the HUD flickered to life. "That'll take—"

**system boot engaged**

**system boot complete**

**systems check initiated**

**power core initiated**

**life support on-line**

**environmental controls on-line**

**computer micro-frame on-line**

**sensor suite on-line**

**omni-tool interface on-line**

**weapons interface on-line**

**shield generator on-line**

**tactical cloak interface on-line**

**systems check complete**

"Oh. Never mind," I said. Always with a snappy remark, that's me.

I picked up the pistol lying at the bottom of the locker. M-3 Predator heavy pistol, my HUD told me. Never heard of that model, much to my surprise. **(1)** A pistol icon appeared on the bottom left corner of my HUD. "0 out of 0" it said. There was an error icon that flashed below it. Highlighting it, it told me that the weapon had no detectable thermal clip.

Thermal clip? What the heck was—I suddenly remembered that article I read before the Normandy was attacked. Something about adopting detachable heat sinks so we could sustain rapid weapons fire like the geth. Those things were already in circulation? That was fast. Another thing that didn't seem right.

"Uh... Miranda? This pistol doesn't have a thermal clip."

"_It's a med bay,"_ Miranda told me, as if that explained everything. Right. A med bay that has a hardsuit and a pistol.

"_We'll get you a clip from—damn it!" _

That didn't sound good.

"_Keep your head down, Shepard! Shield yourself from the blast!"_

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I ducked behind a couple canisters. I glimpsed some gas escaping from a cylinder next to the door before it exploded. Lifting my head once the shrapnel had passed, I saw that the door had been breached.

"_Someone's hacking security trying to kill you,"_ Miranda said. _"Look for a thermal clip for your pistol."_

Under attack. Scrounging for supplies. I was definitely back in familiar territory.

Just beyond the door were a couple small flat rectangles, with a glowing red panel flashing on their sides. Thermal clips, I guessed. I picked them up, slotted one in and put the rest in a handy-dandy pocket that was conveniently the right size. If I was reading the changes in my HUD correctly, I now had twelve shots before this thermal clip, and the remaining clips would give me another twenty-one shots.

Opening the next door in front of me, I saw a bunch of crates laid out like barricades, something that Miranda noted as well. "Looks like they set up a barricade to try holding the mechs off."

Mechs? These guys were using mechs? Was I on an Alliance colony or something? **(2)**

I saw another thermal clip flashing on the ground behind a crate in the centre of the room, and moved over to pick it up.

"_Look out!"_

Glancing up, I saw a bipedal humanoid mech coming down a ramp at the end of the room. I dove behind the crate just in time. I activated my HUD while it fired several more shots in futility, trying to figure out my options. I had a couple ammo mods that I could select—one to disrupt electromagnetic fields or synthetic systems and one to generate miniature mass effect fields around my weapon rounds. Given the circumstances, I picked the former.

"Hostiles detected using non-standard ammunition," the mech announced pleasantly over the blare of another three shots.

Nice to see its sensors were working. Now then, what else did I have? Some high-yield plasma round that I could launch from my omni-tool to burn things. Very nice. A tactical cloak—

Right. What the heck was that, anyway?

Shrugging, I selected it. I saw a shimmer around me, and then I just... faded away. I lifted my arm and stared at it. I could see the light bending around something shaped like an arm, but that was it.

I was invisible. Cool.

Taking a gamble, I stood up. The mech just stood there. I took a step towards it. Still nothing. I took another step, having half a mind to wave my hand or do a song-and-dance routine.

And then I glimpsed another shimmering and I flickered back into view.

"Hostiles detected."

Aw, crap.

Panicking, I cocked my arm back and gave it a solid uppercut. As it staggered back, I punched it again, then shot it in the head for good measure. Without warning, the mech exploded. Right in front of me. Drained a good chunk of my shields and knocked me back a step or two.

Note to self: don't shoot mechs in the head. At least, not when you're next to them.

"_Keep moving,"_ Miranda called out. _"We need to get you to the shuttles."_

I ran up the ramp, scooping up another thermal clip along the way. At the top of the ramp was a door that led to an observation room, based on the large "OBSERVATION" sign that ran along the wall.

"_Shepard! Security mechs are closing in on your location. Take cover."_

In the centre of the room was a group of waist-high cylinders surrounded by a transparent wall. I ducked behind it just before a mech strolled in, a dead ringer for the one I'd punched and shot in the last room. LOKI-class, according to my HUD. "Hostiles detected," it chirped. A quick scan indicated that there were no other mechs in the area, so I let it get a bit closer before firing a couple rounds into its head. For good measure, I jumped up and socked it in the jaw.

As it went down, I felt a round hit my shields. Looking up, I saw four more mechs enter the room. "Hostiles detected. Subdue and suppress," they said cheerfully.

Cursing, I ducked back behind my cover. I popped up every now and then to fire off a few shots. The lead mech was taking a lot of damage from me, so it was the first to explode when I plugged a round in its head. The explosion took out another mech. It also damaged the remaining two while stunning them momentarily. While they were standing there, I took advantage of the opportunity to finish them off.

"_Nice work, Shepard,"_ Miranda complimented me. _"Coast is clear."_

I took a moment to scrounge for clips. As I did so, it occurred to me that punching those mechs hadn't hurt at all. I mean, I was wearing a hardsuit, but I should've felt something. But I didn't. I pondered that oddity for a moment before shelving that thought for the time being. Leaving the observation room behind, I ran down a corridor. After a couple metres, it turned right. A bunch of windows ran along the length of that wall, giving me a nice view of an enormous mech stomp into view, mowing down some hapless person with a hail of machine gun fire.

"_Don't waste time,"_ Miranda interrupted my train of thought. _"I can't keep the mechs distracted for long."_

I ran down the corridor, through a door and entered the second level of some sort of cargo bay. _"More reinforcements heading your way,"_ Miranda said. _"Grab the grenade launcher off the security officer's body."_

Looking around, I saw the splattered remains of a man with a large weapon next to him. The grenade launcher, obviously. Picking it up, I looked around. On the ground floor below me, a door opened up, and a bunch of LOKI mechs walked in.

I looked down at my new grenade launcher. Not as elegant as a sniper rifle, but I guess it would have to do. Interface indicated that it used 'power cells' instead of thermal clips. Different sort of ammunition, I guess. Lifting it up, I launched a grenade. It flew through the air, plunked down at their feet, and blew them up.

Now that the coast was clear, I could head down to the ground. As if she'd read my mind, Miranda called out again: _"Take the elevator down one floor."_

Following her instructions, it didn't take me long to reach the ground. Where I soon realized that my grenade had also ruptured and ignited a gas main. It was spewing flames in a stream that passed in front of the door. Oops. Looking around, I saw that there was no other way out of here. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and ran through. Luckily, I didn't get singed.

"_You're doing... *hiss* —Shepard. Head to the... *hiss* —meet you..."_ Miranda's voice was breaking up under a sudden onslaught of static. _"Shepard? —read me?"_ she tried to continue. _"I've got... –closing in... –position."_

"Miranda?" I called out. Nothing. Great.

Opening another door, I found myself in a lab. Two LOKI mechs were on the ground, crawling towards a nearby table. I didn't have time to see what they were up to, and I didn't want to use up my limited amount of ammo—boy, did I ever miss the days of infinite ammo—so I ran over and punched one of them in the head. It obligingly exploded, taking out the other mech.

Once my shields had recovered, I started to look around. On the left was a damaged laptop. After a bit of experimenting, I managed to pull up a log from Miranda.

"_Progress is slow,"_ she reported _"but the subject shows signs of recovery. Major organs have regained function and there are signs of rudimentary neurological activity. In an effort to accelerate the process, we've moved from simple organic reconstruction of the subject to bio-synthetic fusion. Initial results show promise."_

Major organs regaining function? Rudimentary neurological activity? Bio-synthetic fusion? Is she talking about me? Were things that... oh. Right. Got knocked into space. Took a dive into atmo. **(3)** OK, maybe I needed more than a night's observation.

Further rummaging uncovered a safe full of credits. Locking mechanism wasn't something I was familiar with. Had to bypass it by connecting similar-looking circuitry nodes. Still, I managed to get the hang of it. Barely.

Before I left, I came across another computer log, this one by the guy I saw when I briefly regained consciousness. Couldn't remember his name, but the contents made for interesting viewing:

"_Log update: the cost of this project is astronomical—over four billion credits so far. But nobody seems to care that we've gone over budget. I don't know where the boss gets all his money... maybe it's better not to know. I just wish he'd kick a little more in my direction once in a while."_

Like I said: interesting viewing. I didn't know whether this guy was just pissed or had a serious axe to grind. What concerned me was the cost of this project—which presumably saved my life—and the suggestion that the resources that funded it came from some questionable sources.

Well, I wouldn't be able to get any more answers here. I headed out and up some stairs I found. A door stood a few steps away from the stairs. There was a large window to the right which offered a nice vista of space. Looked like I was either on a space station or a starship.

"Shepard!"

To my left, there was a short path that ran along the length of the stairs. The wall had a bunch of windows about waist-high extending to the ceiling. On the other side of the glass, this guy had stepped out of a ton of smoke. He was waving to get my attention, then stopped and jerked around. "No! No! Help me!" he cried, just before another enormous mech loomed out of the smoke and blew him to bits with a rocket.

I braced myself, expecting the mech to attack. Instead, it just stood and looked at me, then stomped away. Maybe it figured it couldn't get to me directly. Heck, whatever that 'window' was made out of, it withstood a rocket at point-blank range.

Before I headed for the door, I saw another console. Tapping the controls, I saw that most of the files had been badly corrupted, but I managed to salvage another one from—Wilson! That's his name!

"_Log update: I can't figure Miranda out. As project director, she should be ecstatic at all the progress we've made. But she's still the same old ice queen. Maybe she's worried Shepard might become the new favourite. Or maybe she's just a pure cold-hearted bitch." _

OK, Wilson definitely had some major grievances. Could he have something to do with all these mechs going nuts? Or did Miranda try to pull the plug because she wasn't satisfied with the way things were going? For the moment, I was inclined towards the former, if only because Miranda did try to help guide me through this deathtrap earlier. Unless that's what they wanted me to think.

I was still mulling over that when I opened the door. My hand immediately raised my pistol, which I'd never gotten around to holstering, to firing position. My mind caught up a nanosecond later, seeing that there was definitely gunfire up ahead.

I'd entered the middle of a large room, with a catwalk running from wall to wall. At the end of the catwalk was another door. Of greater concern was the black guy in a hardsuit firing across a seemingly bottomless pit to another catwalk on the left end of the room. Where a trio of those LOKI mechs were firing back.

Seeing how he'd whittled one of them down to half-strength, I raised my pistol and took it out with a headshot. That got their attention. And the other guy's. "Shepard?" he gawked. "What the hell?" Then he shook his head and turned his attention back to the remaining mechs. With my help, we soon took them down.

Unfortunately, the door opened just as the last mech went down. As even more mechs poured in, I took advantage of the moment to run over to the guy before I could get shot. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were still a work in progress."

"Are you with Miranda?" I asked in return.

He had the grace to look a little sheepish. "Yeah. Sorry, I forgot this is all new to you right now." He cautiously poked his head up. "I'm Jacob Taylor. I've been stationed here for—"

"Hostiles detected."

"Damnit!" he yelped, ducking back down. He popped back up almost immediately, just long enough to drop one of the mechs with a shot to the head, before huddling back down.

"Things must be worse than I thought if Miranda's got you running around. I'll fill you in, but we better get you to the shuttle first."

"Right. Just as soon as we get past all these mechs," I said drily. "What's with them, anyways?"

"Usually they fight for us, working as security," Jacob replied. "Somebody must've hacked 'em."

"Miranda said the same thing, shortly after she revived me," I confirmed.

Jacob shook his head. "That should be impossible, though. Unless you've got access. We've gotta get you outta here, Shepard."

Recognizing that this wasn't the best time for more questions, I decided to shelve my curiosity for now. "You know the area, Jacob. I'll follow you."

"First step—let's finish off these metal bastards. How you doing on thermal clips?"

"Got four on me," I replied.

Jacob frowned for a moment, before letting a tight grin show. "Same here. Not much, but I'm also a biotic. Just give the order when you want me to hit them with the good stuff."

I nodded. Motioning for him to stay down, I poked my head up long enough to get a sense of where the mechs were. "Three mechs evenly spread out," I reported. "Do something with the left one, then help me with the one in the middle. We'll save the right one for last. Weapons free in three... two... one... go!"

Jacob did something that lifted 'his' mech up in the air. It soared briefly, arms flailing, before it dropped over the edge and into the abyss below. By that point, I was almost done with the centre mech, so Jacob chose to start on the last one. Within a couple minutes, we were home free. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jacob stood up and holstered his pistol. "Ready to get the hell off this station?"

I held up a hand. "Before we go anywhere, I need some answers."

"Sure," Jacob nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"I've been hearing all sorts of things. How the progress of my recovery was slow. How a lot of effort and money was spent. And now you say I should've been a 'work in progress' instead of running around. What's going on?"

Jacob took a deep breath. Uh oh, I thought.

"You and your ship were attacked. The Normandy was destroyed. You were killed. Dead as dead can be when they brought you here."

Say what?

"Our scientists spent the last two years putting you back together. You've been comatose, or worse, that whole time." Jacob paused before adding "Welcome back to your life."

"That's..." I paused and shook my head. While that made sense, given how I dove into atmo without proper equipment, actually hearing what happened was something else. "I'm having some trouble wrapping my head around that," I confessed.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Jacob said sympathetically. "The Alliance officially declared you KIA. The whole galaxy thinks you're dead."

Great. I'm a zombie.

"How bad were my injuries?"

Jacob shook his head. "I'm no doctor, but it was bad. When I first saw you, you were nothing but meat and tubes. Anywhere else, they'd have put you in a coffin. But Project Lazarus was different. Cutting-edge technology."

Well, at least that explained why people were using mechs now, why these new-fangled thermal clips were suddenly all the rage, and why I'd never heard of an M-3 Predator heavy pistol. I suddenly recalled how easily I could go mano-a-mano with the mechs earlier. Did that mean... "What are you talking about, exactly?" I demanded. "Cloning? Cybernetics?"

Jacob shrugged. "I don't know the details. You'd have to ask the scientists." He seemed to know what I was getting at, adding "But I'm _pretty _sure you're not a clone. They wanted to bring you back exactly as you were. You're still you... you just might have a few extra bits and pieces now."

Well that made me feel all better. Now I was just a cyborg zombie. I remembered that neat little cloaking function I used earlier. Make that a cyborg ninja zombie. Or a cyborg zombie ninja. Or a...

Before I wasted too much time figuring out all the permutations, I moved on to another question: "Did anyone else make it off the Normandy?"

"About half the crew survived, including the non-Alliance guys."

"Do you know what any of them are doing now?"

"Sorry, I don't know," Jacob apologized. "It's been two years. They've moved on. Could be anywhere."

It was hard to imagine people declaring me dead and moving on. For me, it seemed like yesterday. It suddenly occurred to me that Jacob probably knew quite a bit about me, but I knew squat about him. Time to change that. "What's your job here?"

"Depends on who you ask," he answered. "Technically, I'm Miranda's top lieutenant. But I'm just a soldier. Served five years in the Alliance before this. Now I'm in charge of the station's security. Usually a lot more dull than this. Normally I don't fire my gun unless it's target practise."

Now we were getting somewhere. Jacob's frank answers and combat skills were consistent with an ex-Alliance marine. And now I knew we were on a station.

"Miranda woke me up and was talking to me over the radio. We lost contact just before I ran into you. What does she do around here?"

"Miranda Lawson is the station's ranking officer," Jacob told me. "She led the Lazarus team. It was her job to bring you back to life, no matter what. Should've guessed she'd try to save you. She's not about to give up now. You said you lost contact? Could you tell what was happening?"

"She was coming across clear as day, and then her voice started getting lost in static," I replied. "There was some gunfire and an explosion right before I lost her."

"She knows how to take care of herself," Jacob said before frowning in concern. "But I hope she's okay."

I couldn't really think of any more questions. At least, any questions whose answers I wasn't afraid of hearing. So I decided it was time to go. "What's the quickest way to those shuttles?"

"Depends on where the mechs are thickest," Jacob said. "It's probably best if we—"

"_Check. Check,"_ a voice interrupted us. _"Anyone on this frequency? Anybody still alive out there? Hello?"_

"Wilson," Jacob called out, raising a hand to his right ear. "This is Jacob. I'm here with Commander Shepard. Just took out a wave of mechs over in D Wing."

Wilson sounded surprised. _"Shepard's alive? How the hell... never mind. You need to get him out of there. Get to the service tunnels and head for the network control room."_

"Roger that, Wilson," Jacob replied. "Stay on this frequency."

"I remember Wilson from the first time I woke up," I said, casually probing for details.

"He's the chief medical officer. Answers directly to Miranda."

But he wasn't too happy about it, if his log recordings were any indication. Speaking of which, there was a datapad on the ground nearby. With another recording—seriously, have these guys ever heard of encrypting their logs? Not that I was complaining or anything. These logs were providing lots of interesting intel. Like this little gem from Wilson:

"_Log update: The Lazarus Project is about to enter the final phase. It took nearly two years, but we did it. Commander Shepard is alive! This is the most amazing medical achievement in recorded history. Maybe now Miranda will finally show some appreciation for everything I've done."_

After scooping up another thermal clip, Jacob and I left the room and all of its broken mechs.

* * *

><p>We went down a corridor and entered some dimly lit server room. I felt this odd tingling sensation on the back of my neck, just before a couple mechs popped up and started firing at us. Kinda caught us by surprise. We took them out, but our shields took a pounding in the process.<p>

"Wilson?" Jacob called out on the comm. "Find us another way out of here. Preferably one that doesn't lead straight into an enemy squad!"

"_Just keep moving towards the control room,_" we heard. _"Don't get pinned down. I'll see what I can do."_

Shaking my head, I led Jacob out of the room and up some stairs. There was another door to the right, and a computer console just behind us to the left. I made my way over, gingerly stepping over the corpses that were scattered in front of it. The console had yet another recording, this one by Miranda:

"_Physical reconstruction of subject is complete, but we still need to evaluate all mental and neurological functions. Our orders were clear: make Commander Shepard who he was before the explosion—the same mind, the same morals, the same personality. If we alter his personality in any way, if he's somehow not the man he used to be, the Lazarus Project will have failed. I refuse to let that happen."_

Interesting. Three different people insisting that they brought me back without screwing my mind up in the process. At least, not anymore than it already was. If this was a trick, it was a very thorough one. If not, maybe these guys were lousy judges of character.

"_Oh God! They found me! Help!"_

That was Wilson, out of the blue. Jacob activated his comm. "Wilson? Where are you?"

"_Server Room B!"_ Wilson cried out frantically. _"Hurry! They're out of control!"_

"Through that door," Jacob pointed out the door I passed up earlier. "Hurry!"

"Oh God! I'm hit! They shot me!" Wilson yelled, just before we burst through the door.

The server room was another dimly lit chamber filled with computers and cables and tech. Wilson was lying on the ground. "Bastards got me in the leg," he cursed.

"Nice to see you again," I greeted him. "You know, after the first time I regained consciousness."

"Yeah. That was me," Wilson panted. "How about we talk about this after we fix my leg?"

"Should be some medi-gel in the first aid station on the wall," Jacob said. "Hopefully there's enough to get him up and moving again."

I directed Jacob to stand guard while I swiped the medi-gel. Only needed one to fix him. Waste of medi-gel—the wound wasn't that serious. In fact, it looked fairly superficial. And self-inflicted. I kept that to myself, of course.

Wilson slowly got to his feet. "Thanks, Shepard. Never thought you'd save my life. Guess that makes us even now. I thought maybe I could shut down the security mechs. But whoever did this fried the whole system. The damage's completely irreversible."

"We didn't ask what you were doing," Jacob replied, a slight note of confusion—and possibly suspicion—in his voice. "Why do you even have security mech clearance? You were stationed in the bio wing."

"Weren't you listening?" Wilson's rebuttal seemed awfully aggressive. "I came here to try and fix this. Besides, I was _shot_! How do you explain that?"

I felt that odd tingling sensation at the back of my neck again. It seemed to coincide with my suspicions about this guy. Serious grudge against his boss. Surprised that I was alive. Incapacitated with a self-inflicted wound. And now trying a bit too hard to defend a rather flimsy excuse for getting caught somewhere he shouldn't be.

Again, I made sure my suspicions didn't show on my face. "You're all strangers to me," I said. "Let's get someplace safe. Then we'll sort out whose fault it is."

"Right, Shepard," Jacob agreed. "We need to find Miranda. We can't leave her behind."

"Forget about Miranda," Wilson said quickly. "She was over in D wing. The mechs were all over that sector. There's no way she survived."

"A bunch of mechs won't stop her," Jacob scoffed. "She's alive."

"Then where is she?" Wilson pounced. "Why haven't we heard from her? There are only two possible explanations: she's either dead... or she's a traitor."

"Then why did she wake me up and warn me about the attack?" I asked.

"Okay, maybe she's not a traitor," Wilson quickly said. "But that doesn't change the facts. We're here, she's not. We need to save ourselves."

The fact that he was more interested in saving his neck than responding to my question was very interesting.

Wilson pointed behind him at another door. "The shuttle bay is only a few..."

And that was when a quartet of mechs came in. They couldn't get at us, as they were blocked by a bunch of canisters that were in the way, but the three of us ducked for cover nonetheless. Jacob nudged me and pointed at the canisters. "If we can overload the locks on those canisters, the resulting short will ignite their contents," he hissed. "That'll take out the mechs and clear a path to the shuttles."

"If they're that volatile, why'd you store them in the server room?" I asked. "Never mind," I quickly added upon seeing his exasperation. "Gift horse, mouth, got it. I can't do anything about that, though."

"Wilson!" Jacob called out. "You're up!"

Wilson nodded and sent a signal from his omni-tool. The canisters blew up with a satisfying boom, taking all four mechs with them.

"That's it! Let's get out of here!" Wilson said, moving for the door. I started to move after him, and then noticed that Jacob hadn't taken a step. "Jacob?"

"We took 'em down, but this is getting tense. Shepard, if I tell you who we work for, will you trust me?"

"This isn't really the time, Jacob," Wilson warned.

"We won't make it if he's expecting a shot in the back," Jacob retorted.

True enough. I was already starting to get antsy. And that damn tingling still hadn't gone away yet.

Wilson crossed his arms. "If you want to piss off the boss, it's your ass, Jacob."

Jacob took a deep breath. "The Lazarus Project, the program that rebuilt you... it's funded and controlled by Cerberus."

Cerberus? Pro-human, kill-or-enslave-all-the-aliens, start-crazy-secret-projects-that-go-horribly-wrong, _terrorist organization_ Cerberus? Aw, crap. For the first time I noted the elongated hexagon emblazoned on his chest plate, with two lines outlining the bottom four sides. I'd seen it scattered around the station and on various bodies as well. Was that the Cerberus logo? If so, that was rather odd—I was sure I'd seen that symbol before. **(4)**

I settled for raising an eyebrow. "I wiped out my share of Cerberus projects when I was a Spectre. Back then, they were trying to kill me. Why the change of heart?"

"Those answers are _way _above my pay grade," Jacob replied.

Of course they were.

"But basically—things change."

Of course they did.

"The Alliance declared you dead. They gave up. Cerberus spent a fortune to bring you back."

Naturally. With no strings attached, right?

Jacob must've sensed my scepticism. He took a step towards me, hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Look, I'd be suspicious, too. But right now, we have to work together. I thought you deserved to know what's what."

He was right on all counts. And I did appreciate his candour. Even if he was an obedient soldier-turned-Cerberus lapdog.

"Once we're off the station, I'll take you to the Illusive Man. He'll explain everything. I promise."

"Is he in charge of all this?" I asked.

"Yeah," Wilson said. "That's not his real name, of course. No one knows who he really is."

"It was a code name the Alliance used for him," Jacob explained. "It kinda stuck." **(5)**

Must have. Hard to imagine someone with that much money and influence saddling himself with a nom de guerre that sounded that dumb.

"I see," I finally said. "Well, I appreciate being informed... eventually. Unless you have any more information, maybe we should get moving."

* * *

><p>We'd barely left the room when I stopped to grab a datapad that some dead Cerberus operative had dropped. For once, it was actually encrypted. The encryption algorithms were based on a totally different principle than what I was used to—yet another sign of how much things had changed. Still, I managed to figure it out—the decryption key was based on sets of computer code. Once you figured out the patterns and arrangements of those codes, it was easy to just scan for those specific configurations. Within a minute, I'd broken through and obtained a nice handful of creds. After that, we made our way to the cargo bay connected to the shuttle landing zone. Like any other cargo bay, it was full of crates in varying shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, this one also was infested with mechs.<p>

We managed to get the drop on the first one, who were still crouched on the floor in shutdown mode. Before the other mechs could get a bead on us, I directed Jacob and Wilson to either side of the door. Meanwhile, I used my cloak to determine where the mechs were and how best to direct our weapons fire. Whenever the cloak ran out of juice, I just ducked for cover until it recharged.

It was during this fight that I noticed something. If I didn't do anything, the cloak would last just over five seconds. If I fired a weapon, the cloak would destabilize immediately. Curiously, the shots fired while I was cloaked seemed to do more damage. Seemed like the energy that made me invisible was somehow transferred to the weapon rounds as they passed through the cloaking field, something that resulted in its disruption. In other words, it was an advantage, but not one that I could rely on excessively.

I started to explore the cargo bay after we destroyed the mechs, Jacob and Wilson in tow. We had just reached the top level when mechs poured through from both sides, effectively flanking us on two sides. "Allied forces have engaged," one of them chirped. That was when Wilson started freaking out.

Ignoring his babbling about how it was "game over," I told Jacob to concentrate on the mechs coming out of the doors on our right while I tackled the ones on the left. That plan seemed to go well at first, as I was able to deal with half of 'my' mechs. Then I felt a bullet ricochet off my hardsuit. Something that I shouldn't have felt.

Glancing at my HUD, I realized that my shields had been drained. It didn't take long to figure out what happened. Jacob had had difficulty in pinning down the mechs on his side, allowing one of them to flank our position and get a line of sight on me. Cursing, I switched targets and fired off a couple shots, blowing off one of its arms. Undeterred, it switched its grip on its pistol to a one-handed grasp, calmly chiming "Backup systems engaged." Thankfully, those backup systems weren't enough to handle a headshot.

With that potentially lethal distraction eliminated, I waited until my shields recharged before taking out the last of the mechs. Then I resumed my scrounging. Picked up a thermal clip, hacked a safe or two for creds and found another laptop. Turning it on, I scrolled through the files, looking for something I hadn't seen before. After a while, I found Miranda's first entry:

"_Test subject has been recovered, but the damage is far worse than we initially feared. In addition to the expected burns and internal injuries from the explosion, subject has suffered significant cellular breakdown due to long-term exposure to vacuum and sub-zero temperatures."_

Well ain't that peachy.

"_Despite the extent of the physical trauma, Wilson assures me that the subject is salvageable. The Lazarus Project will proceed as planned."_

Oddly enough, I wasn't too alarmed by the demotion from "human being" to "test subject". Maybe I was still running on auto-pilot and adrenaline after being so rudely awakened. I tried to convince myself that was the reason, and not the fact that...

I shelved my fears before I could voice them to myself and trigger an immediate nervous breakdown. "Jacob, where do we go?"

Wilson answered before Jacob could open his mouth. "Shuttle Bay 2, over there," he pointed to the right door, where the other group of mechs came out. "Come on."

We trotted over to the door, with Wilson in the lead. "C'mon, through here," he urged, activating the door controls. "We're almost at the..."

The door hissed open, revealing a small shuttle bay, a shuttle, and a woman. I could tell she was in excellent shape, with long toned legs, curvy hips and a great pair of bre—er—assets. Kinda hard to miss, given the outfit she was poured into. Some kind of skin-tight jumpsuit consisting of white hexagons, which contrasted with the black sleeves, fingerless gloves and knee-high high-heeled boots. She sported a black and yellow Cerberus symbol, just above her left breast.

I noted all that, and still had time to see the brief look of surprise that swept over her face. Before it was replaced by a look of anger, anyways.

"Miranda!" Wilson gasped. "But, you were—"

Her pistol seemed to leap into her hands and fire. As Wilson dropped, I noted that the bullet entered just under his chin. The lack of spray showed that it must have continued in an upward vector before lodging itself in his brain. An incredible display of marksmanship, made all the more impressive by the speed at which it was fired.

"Dead?" Miranda finished, staring coldly at his body.

Jacob jogged up and gawked at Miranda. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Miranda looked up at him, glanced down at Wilson's body, then looked up again. "My job," she replied. "Wilson betrayed us all." Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a sense of betrayal and disappointment in her pale blue eyes. Something that belied the ruthlessness of her earlier action.

At this point, I noticed that I was pointing my pistol at her. Automatic reflex, I guess. I slowly lowered it until it was pointing at the ground. "I had a feeling Wilson was just looking for a chance to shoot me in the back," I admitted, recalling the suspicions that had been forming for a while now.

"Good instincts," Miranda complimented. "Some people are far too trusting to ever see that coming."

"But you should have taken him alive," I continued. "To see what he knew."

Miranda disagreed. "Too risky," she said, shaking her head. "I've put too much time and effort bringing you back to life to let you get killed now."

"You really think Wilson's capable of that?" Jacob asked.

Miranda glanced at Wilson's body again. She answered Jacob with two simple words: "Not anymore." Then she turned to me. "Come on. Let's grab this shuttle and get out of here. My boss wants to speak with you."

"You mean the Illusive Man?" I asked. "I know you work for Cerberus."

She tilted her head towards Jacob. "Ah, Jacob," she said. "I should've known your conscience would get the better of you." She didn't sound surprised, betrayed or disappointed. More like it was a contingency that she had anticipated from the beginning.

"Lying to the commander isn't the way to get him to join our cause," Jacob replied angrily. Guess her actions crossed the line for him. Shame he left the Alliance. He was just the kind of guy they were looking for.

Miranda turned back towards me. "Well, since we're getting everything out in the open, is there anything else you want to ask before we go, Commander?"

"Where were you during the attack?" I started. Call me paranoid, but it was awfully convenient how she showed up in the nick of time.

"Besides trying to save your life?"

"Yeah, besides that."

"Wilson figured out I was helping you, and he sent an army of mechs to take me out. I got here as soon as I could. Probably a little too soon, if you ask Wilson."

Next question: "Where are we going?"

"Another Cerberus facility. The Illusive Man is waiting for you there."

I raised an eyebrow. "And if I don't feel like tagging along?"

"This is the only shuttle off the station. You want to stay and rot with the mechs?"

I simply pointed down at the second shuttle, which I'd seen on the lower level of the cargo bay during our first firefight with the mechs.

"Take a closer look," she invited. I took her up on her offer, and soon saw that one of the thrusters was badly damaged. From the look of things, it wouldn't be able to lift off, much less take me anywhere. For the time being, it looked like I was stuck with these guys. Unless I wanted to kill them and fly off without them. As tempting as that sounded, I had no idea what was going on. Barrelling off without any intel would just get me spaced. **(6)** Again.

"What about the rest of the people on this station?" I objected. "Shouldn't we try to find them?"

"This is the evac area. If they're not here by now, they're not coming," Miranda replied.

"We can't leave without knowing for sure," I protested. Had to maintain my rep, especially after a two year hiatus. "We need to go back and look."

"Don't you get it?" Miranda asked. "The only one worth saving is you. Everyone else is expendable."

"She's right," Jacob sighed. "We all knew the risks when we signed up. Without you, there's no point to any of this."

"Why did you do all this, anyways?"

"Maybe you should ask the Illusive Man that," she replied. "All I know is that he poured virtually unlimited resources into Lazarus. Obviously he has some kind of plan for you."

Great. TIMmy has a plan for me. **(7)** Just what I wanted to hear.

"Fine," I decided, holstering my pistol. "Guess I've had enough of this station to last a lifetime."

"Or two, in your case," Miranda said dryly. "Come on." She led us towards the shuttle. As she walked, I noticed she also had a great ass.

Yes. I do notice these things. Sue me.

* * *

><p>We boarded the shuttle without another word. While Jacob settled in one of the seats, Miranda activated the autopilot, programming a course to some destination that was simply marked "Minuteman Station." While she did that, I accessed the shuttle's sensors and scanned the station.<p>

Miranda saw what I was doing. "Anything?"

"Nope," I replied, staring at the results on the screen. "No other life signs. Just electronic signatures."

For a moment, I thought she looked sad. When I looked again, I just saw a cool, expressionless mask. Maybe I was seeing things. "Let's buckle up," she said. "We'll be lifting off in a moment."

Miranda and I went back to the seating area and secured ourselves. She wound up sitting next to Jacob, while I took a seat opposite them. I could have taken any of the other seats—the shuttle looked like it could seat twelve people, as long as they weren't claustrophobic. But I didn't. What can I say? I'm a sociable kind of guy.

Miranda remained silent until we entered FTL. "Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask a few questions to evaluate your condition."

"Come on, Miranda," Jacob groaned. "More tests? Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough."

Not for Miranda. From what I had gathered, she wasn't the sort to settle for anything less than perfection. "It's been two years since the attack," she replied. "The Illusive Man needs to know that Shepard's personality and memories are intact. Ask the questions. Start with personal history."

"Okay." Jacob pulled up some data on his omni-tool. "Records show you were a spacer kid. Raised mostly on one ship or another," he began. "You enlisted and won a medal fighting batarians during the Skyllian Blitz. Do you remember that?"

Do I remember that? That was how I got this goddamn reputation for being a Hero who loved suicidal missions in the first place!

"A lot of lives depended on me holding that position," I replied, drawing on the vast repertoire of canned answers I'd developed over years of interviews. "I did what I had to."

Jacob shook his head in admiration. "However you want to put it, it was damn impressive. I had friends who were there."

"Let's try something more recent," Miranda said. "Virmire, where you destroyed Saren's cloning facility. You had to leave one of your squad behind to die in the blast."

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams," I nodded.

"It was your call," Jacob said. "Why did you leave her behind?"

I suddenly felt overwhelmed by a surge of memories as I recalled all the conversations we had and all the missions we completed. Especially that last fateful one. "I left a friend to die that day, and I didn't do it casually," I replied after a second. "But I had to save as many people as I could.

"Ash gave her life for the rest of the squad," I emphasized firmly. "Without her, I couldn't have stopped Saren. She died a hero."

A real hero, I silently added. **(8) **

"I understand, Commander," Jacob said apologetically. "And I wasn't judging or second-guessing your decision. Everybody at Cerberus knows that cloning facility had to be destroyed."

Miranda leaned forward. "Shepard, think back to the Citadel, after the Alliance saved the Destiny Ascension, and you killed Saren. What happened next?"

"Captain Anderson, Ambassador Udina and I met the Council on the Presidium, outside the Wards Access point. Humanity was offered a spot on the Council. I recommended Captain Anderson for the position."

"Yes, _Captain_ Anderson is now _Councillor_ Anderson," Miranda informed me. "Though from what I hear, he preferred life in the military." **(9)**

"Still, good to know that the human Council member isn't going to put politics ahead of defence," Jacob added.

"Your memory seems solid," Miranda said thoughtfully. "There are other tests we really should run—"

"Come on, Miranda," Jacob rolled his eyes. "Enough with the quizzes. The memories are there, and I can vouch for Shepard's combat skills personally."

Miranda seemed to respect Jacob's opinions. "I suppose you're right," she conceded. "We'll have to hope the Illusive Man accepts our impromptu field test as evidence enough."

At that point, we exited FTL. We sat there in silence, as the shuttle took us to a space station that was hovering above a planet and docked.

Come right in, said the spider to the fly.

* * *

><p>I didn't exactly have time to catch my breath once we arrived. Miranda and Jacob both prodded me to go meet the Illusive Man while they stayed behind in the waiting area. Guess TIMmy wanted some one-on-one face time.<p>

Following their directions, I headed out of the waiting area, down a flight of stairs and into a small room. A small, empty, dark room. Did I turn left when I should've turned right or something?

Perplexed, I walked in. As I looked around, I noticed a set of blue lights that formed a circle on the floor in the centre of the room. On a hunch, I stepped in.

With an electronic whirring, a columnar grid of orange lights swept up around me. It seemed to scan my body, and I had to resist the urge to protect the ol' family jewels. As soon as the grid reached the ceiling, the room around me dissolved away.

A large room flickered into view. The only occupant was a man, casually sitting in a chair with a cigarette in his hand. I couldn't really make out many details. The room was dark, lit only by an image of a dying sun displayed in the background and a bunch of computer panels that flickered nearby, so it was hard to see his features. The only thing I could see clearly was his eyes.

"Commander Shepard," he said, his eyes piercing the gloom like a pair of cold cerulean laser sights.

"Illusive Man," I replied.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Shepard's surprise comes from his experience with acquiring different arms and equipment throughout his missions, which he often referred to as 'scrounging' or 'looting'. The fact that he couldn't identify this model was the first indication that something, from his perspective, was amiss.<em>

_(2): Use of these synthetic combat units, colloquially known as 'mechs,' were originally restricted for security detail and guard duty in locations where manpower or 'round the clock surveillance by organics was impractical. The staggering losses in the civilian and military sectors caused by Saren and Sovereign prompted more wide-scale adoption of these units. They enjoy particular favour by criminal and mercenary elements, which use them for extra, or expendable, manpower._

_(3): An Alliance slang term for atmosphere__. _

_(4): The symbol actually belongs to Cord-Hislop Aerospace. Officially, it is a well-respected starship manufacturer. Unofficially, it was identified as a front for Cerberus. It is worth noting that this latter fact was more widely known in the Terminus Systems than in the more "lawful" sectors of Citadel space._

_(5): To elaborate, an e-mail was sent throughout the internet after the Battle of Shanxi that urged humanity to "take its rightful place" in the galaxy, demanded that it be more assertive of its power when dealing with these new alien species and emphasized the need for a guard or 'Cerberus' to protect humanity from the aliens. Failing to trace the source of this transmission, Alliance intelligence sought to belittle and dismiss the inflammatory human-centric diatribe by calling the sender an "illusive man." It is believed that the sender adopted that name as his new identity and founded a covert group, Cerberus, to carry out his agenda. _

_(6): An Alliance slang term for getting sucked into the vacuum of space and killed. _

_(7): A nickname based on the acronym for "The Illusive Man." Shepard used the term in private, much like he had a similarly derogative name for the original members of the Council._

_(8): It's good that Shepard acknowledged Gunnery Chief Williams' sacrifice. The way he compares his own heroism to Chief Williams', however, brings to mind the phrase 'The more things change, the more they stay the same."_

_(9): I must admit that Ms. Lawson's sources were accurate._


	3. Old Faces, New Faces

**Chapter 3: Old Faces, New Faces**

My eyes adjusted remarkably quickly to the dim lighting. I tried not to think that this was courtesy of all those gadgets Cerberus stuck in me, focusing instead on the Illusive Man. Fancy, expensive suit. Perfectly symmetrical features. Close-cropped brown hair. Steely blue eyes. I paid particular attention to that last one. The more I looked, the more I saw what looked like circuitry glowing in his irises. Maybe they were prosthetic. Maybe it was my imagination. All I knew was that it looked damn creepy. About the only thing that made him look inhuman.

Of course, I wasn't about to admit that, verbally or otherwise. Show fear to your enemies, and they'll walk all over you in a nanosecond. "I thought we'd be meeting face-to-face," I said casually, crossing my arms.

TIMmy smiled politely. "A necessary precaution. Not unusual for people who know what you and I know."

"And what exactly is it that 'you and I know?'" I prompted.

"That our place in the galaxy is more fragile than we'd like to think," TIMmy responded immediately. "That one man—one very specific man—may be all that stands between humanity and the greatest threat of our brief existence."

"Wait... let me guess..." I paused for a moment. "The Reapers." Despite all the changes that had happened during my enforced nap, I suspected that their existence was still classified. I also suspected that TIMmy wouldn't be dissuaded by a little annoyance like that.

I was right. "Good to see your memory's still intact," he smiled again. "How are you feeling?"

"Cut to the chase," I dodged the question. "What are the Reapers doing that made you decide to bring me back?"

TIMmy stood up and walked towards me. "We're at war. No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack. While you've been sleeping, entire colonies have been disappearing. _Human_ colonies. We believe it's someone working for the Reapers. Just as Saren and the geth aided Sovereign. You bested all of them two years ago. That's just one reason we chose you."

And the other reasons were... what? "You do realize you chose a dead guy, right? I mean, you could have trained an entire army for what you spent to bring me back," I pointed out.

"You're unique," TIMmy responded, pointing a finger towards me. "Not just in ability or what you've experienced, but in what you represent. You stood for humanity at a key moment. You're more than a soldier—you're a symbol."

Story of my life.

"And I don't know if the Reapers understand fear, but you killed one. They have to respect that."

Somehow I doubted that. The Reapers seemed too weird, too... too alien to fathom. "If this is a threat against humanity, why don't you present your evidence to the Alliance? Get them to mobilize their fleets and check it out?"

TIMmy shook his head. "They suffered substantial losses fighting Sovereign. They're still rebuilding, still stretched too thin to waste resources verifying the Reaper threat. Blaming the abductions on mercs and pirates is easier. And more convenient."

"And that's where you come in?" I asked sceptically. "Out of the goodness of your heart. Fighting a war doesn't seem like Cerberus. Why are you involved?"

"We are committed to the advancement and preservation of humanity," TIMmy said calmly, yet proudly. "If the Reapers are targeting us, trying to wipe us out, Cerberus will stop them. If we wait for politicians or the Alliance to act, no more human colonies will be left."

"Putting aside your differences with the Alliance, this doesn't make any sense," I shook my head. "Sovereign was trying to harvest all life in the galaxy. Now the Reapers decide to target a few human colonies instead and ignore everyone else? Why? And why didn't anyone pick up on this?"

"Hundreds of thousands of colonists have vanished," TIMmy replied. "I'd say that fits the definition of 'harvesting.' Nobody's paying attention because it's random and the attacks occur in remote locations. I don't know why they've suddenly targeted humanity. Maybe you got their attention when you killed one of them and demonstrated humanity's true potential."

Flattery will get you nowhere, I thought to myself. Aloud, I simply said "Do you really expect me to believe that what you say is true? That humanity is specifically being targeted? And that the Reapers are behind it?"

TIMmy smiled yet again. "I'd be disappointed if you accepted any of this without seeing for yourself." He turned around and walked back to his chair. "I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to be abducted."

He sat back down before continuing. "Miranda and Jacob will brief you. They'll also be providing backup on this mission."

"Is this a volunteer job, or am I being volunteered?"

"You always have a choice, Shepard," he replied. "If you don't find the evidence we're both looking for, we can part ways."

He seemed awfully confident that I'd trip over something. That or he was holding something back. Either way, I was pretty sure that he wouldn't let me go so easily. Not after spending four billion plus creds and two years on me.

"But first, go to Freedom's Progress," TIMmy repeated. "Find any clues you can. Who's abducting the colonies? Do they have any connection to the Reapers? I brought you back. It's up to you to do the rest."

With that, he tapped a console. The large room shimmered away, replaced by the small room I originally stepped in and that grid of light, lowering itself into the floor.

Just as well that he cut the connection. I wouldn't want him to see me agreeing to check it out.

Damn this curiosity of mine.

* * *

><p>"The Illusive Man is very impressed with you," Miranda said when I returned. She was tapping away at a console, working on what looked like a sitrep. "I'm eager to see if you can live up to his expectations on this mission."<p>

I smiled noncommittally. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life."

"I just hope it was worth it," she replied bitterly. "Too many people lost their lives on that station."

She glared at me. "Good people."

I recalled her earlier words on how everyone was expendable. So much for that. "Something you want to say?" I asked. "We have to work together for the time being, and it sounds like you have a problem with that."

"I have the utmost respect for your abilities, Shepard," Miranda replied. "It's your motivations that concern me."

"Motivations?"

"I believe in what Cerberus stands for. Only time will tell if you prove to be an asset or a liability to our cause."

Well, she wasn't willing to blindly trust me just because her boss said so. I had to give her that much, at least. "Speaking of Cerberus, you guys spent two years bringing me back. I'd like to know more about the Lazarus Project from the person in charge, if you don't mind."

"Two years and twelve days," she corrected. "And I wasn't in charge—the Illusive Man was. If I was running the show, we'd have done a few things differently."

"What would you have changed?"

"To start, I would have implanted you with some type of control chip," she admitted. "But the Illusive Man wouldn't allow it. He was afraid it might affect your personality, alter your character somehow. He wouldn't let us do anything that might limit your potential in any way."

"Can't say I like the idea of being brought back to life with a control chip in my brain," I said dryly.

"Without that chip, we have no way of knowing what you might do. You could go berserk and we'd have no way of stopping you." Miranda sighed and shook her head. "The Illusive Man is taking an incredible risk with you. I just hope his gamble pays off."

"Tell me about yourself," I prompted.

"Worried about my qualifications? I can crush a mech with my biotics or shoot its head off at a hundred yards. Take your pick."

"Actually, I was trying to get to know you as a person," I admitted.

"I'm not here to make friends, Shepard," she replied. "Stay focused on the mission."

All right. Let's play it your way, I thought. For now. "Did you and Jacob serve together in the Alliance?"

She shook her head. "No. The Illusive Man recognized my potential and recruited me at a young age."

"How old were you?"

"Old enough to know this was what I wanted," she replied.

Guess she wasn't going to tell me her life story any time soon. "What can you tell me about this colony we're going to?" I asked instead.

"Freedom's Progress?"

I nodded.

"It's a typical human settlement out in the Terminus Systems. They had a small military force for protection supplemented by mechs and security drones. Average in almost every way, really. Completely unremarkable... until the disappearances."

"Any thoughts on what we might run into there?"

She shrugged. "A lot of empty buildings and one giant mystery."

I waited for her to continue, but apparently that was it. "You're not much for idle chit-chat, are you?" I finally said.

"We've got an assignment, Shepard," she replied, turning her attention back to her console. "We can either talk about it or we can do it."

"Fine," I said. "I'll give you five minutes to wrap up what you're doing before we go 'do it.'."

"It'll be done in three."

"Deal." I paused before adding "Miranda? For the record, I regret that so many of your colleagues gave up their lives."

She looked up at me for a moment, as if gauging the sincerity behind my words. "Much appreciated," she said at last.

* * *

><p>"I'm glad the Illusive Man convinced you to join us, Commander," Jacob greeted me when I walked over to him.<p>

"I just want to find out what happened to those missing people," I replied. "So I'll work with you guys for now, but I haven't joined you. I still don't trust Cerberus."

"Noted." Jacob paused before asking "Do you trust me, Commander?"

Good question. He seemed decent enough, but still... better to dodge the question for now. "You're a good man, Jacob. But you might be working for the wrong people."

"Maybe," Jacob said. "But I thought the same when I was with the Alliance. That's why I'm here now."

Curious.

"I remember you talked about your service. Five years, right?"

Jacob nodded. "Five years in total. Stationed all over the galaxy. Even spent a couple of years as a Corsair."

That didn't ring a bell. "I've never heard of the Corsairs," I admitted.

"It was an Alliance initiative. They hired independent starship captains and used them for missions that fell outside official Alliance jurisdiction. Technically, we weren't part of the Alliance. If we ever got caught, they could disavow any knowledge of us."

Ah. Must've been codeword stuff. **(1)**

"We were supposed to be free from restrictions and rules, but there was still enough red tape to sink a cruiser," Jacob said bitterly. "I finally just gave up."

"Was that why you joined Cerberus?" I asked.

"Yeah," Jacob sighed. "I guess I just got tired of never making a difference. So much of what we did in the Alliance seemed pointless. I thought things would change after the attack on the Citadel. Humanity was finally invited to join the Council.

"But nothing changed. Politics. Bureaucracy. Same bullshit, different leaders," Jacob spat. "Cerberus is different. When colonies go missing, we don't commission a team to write a report to figure out what the hell to do about it. We just go and find out."

"Speaking of finding out about missing colonies, do you know anything about Freedom's Progress? The colony we're going to?"

Jacob shook his head. "Aside from the name, not really. I guess we'll find out when we get there."

"Then let's get going," I decided.

* * *

><p>Before we hopped on the shuttle, Jacob and Miranda took me to the station's armoury. They restricted themselves to two weapons each—a shotgun and heavy pistol for Jacob, and a submachine gun and heavy pistol for Miranda. Unlike the Alliance, it looked like Cerberus didn't believe in saddling its operatives with extra weapons just for dead weight.<p>

As for me, I got four weapons. Just like before I got spaced. I got to keep my heavy pistol and grenade launcher. I was a bit uneasy about handling a heavy weapon that I'd never had any formal training in. I mean, would you slap a weapon in some random stranger's hand and trust that he or she could use it properly? Still, it seemed easy enough. Just point-and-shoot. And I had a feeling that it could come in handy.

I was also issued a submachine gun. Another weapon class that I had no familiarity with. From the sounds of things, it would be good for unleashing a hail of bullets at rapid-fire speed, but without the recoil and accuracy issues that a newbie like me would face.

The last weapon was something that I'd been aching for since the beginning: a sniper rifle. Different make and model than anything I'd seen before, but at least it was something familiar. And in a crazy universe where everything—from allies and enemies to weapons and hacking routines—had suddenly gone topsy-turvy, I _really _needed something familiar.

The hardest part was figuring out which hardsuit to wear. Or what kinda goodies to put in it.

I should probably explain that.

To start, I had a choice of sticking with the N7 armour I'd worn when I busted out of the Lazarus Station or something called the Cerberus Assault Armour. The latter was designed to take a disgusting amount of damage and held a rechargeable power pack designed to extend the use of power cells—handy if you wanted grenade launchers and other fancy weapons to last a little bit longer.

Now you'd think that that added protection and firepower would be attractive, given that I'd just returned from the dead. I suppose there were two main reasons why I put it aside. One, it was damn heavy. After putting it on, I worked up a sweat just walking around the room. I didn't want to think about how much effort it would take to move on the battlefield, or how easy a target I'd become.

The other reason was that it sported a couple Cerberus symbols. One on the helmet, right where my forehead would be, the other under my collarbone. I wasn't looking to become a walking advertisement, thank you very much.

So that left the N7 armour. Apparently it was designed to be modular, with interchangeable helmets, chestpieces, gauntlets, shoulder pauldrons and leg plates that could be swapped in and out to make a customizable set of armour unique to the preferences of the user.

Same with the Kestrel armour, though it wasn't really armour per se. Rather, it was a complete set of helmet, chest plate, shoulder plate, gauntlets and leg pieces that was completely compatible with the N7 armour. In short, I could mix and match pieces between the Kestrel armour and the N7 armour any way I wanted.

Jacob later told me that shops throughout Citadel Space and the Terminus Systems sold individual components that were also compatible with the N7 armour, thus extending my range of choices. For now, I'd have to settle for this.

After some thought, I swapped out the N7's default shoulder pauldrons, gauntlets and leg plates for the Kestrel equivalents. That would boost my weapon damage by 3%, my shields by 19%, my heavy weapon ammo capacity by 5% and my overall physical strength by 10%. I declined the helmet because, well, it looked a little too weird for me. As for the chest plate, it would cover up the N7 logo. I really needed something familiar to hang on to, even if it was just a painted letter and number. **(2)**

Not that I would admit that out loud, of course.

Once we were all geared up, we headed for the shuttle. We weren't joined by any pilot. Instead, the onboard VI got the shuttle to lift off and enter FTL as soon as we buckled in. Someone must have uploaded the location of Freedom's Progress to the shuttle's nav computer.

The trip took an hour, most of which was spent in silence. Miranda finally broke the ice when we dropped out of FTL. "We should be there shortly, Shepard. The Illusive Man put us under your command. Do you have any orders?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. But I do have questions. What did you find at the other colonies?"

"Nothing," Jacob replied. "No signs of attack, no corpses. Not even a trace of unusual genetic material to give us a clue. They just... disappear, and we've got no target to go after."

"Not even any data? Vid-logs, sensor readouts, anything?"

"None."

"Then what makes you think this investigation will turn up anything new?" I asked.

Jacob handled the answers again. "At other colonies, official investigators got there first. Sometimes looters or salvage teams as well. We're hoping to be the first ones there this time. Maybe find clues before somebody else disturbs the scene."

And now for the big one: "Are you sure you'll be comfortable following my orders?"

Naturally, it was the ex-Alliance soldier who responded. "We didn't bring you back from the dead just to second-guess you, Commander. If the Illusive Man says you're in charge, you're in charge."

I was half-expecting Jacob to salute me on the spot. I glanced over to Miranda, who was staring at me intently. It was like she was letting Jacob answer the questions while observing what questions I asked and how I responded. Like she was trying to figure me out or something. Good luck with that. I might have spent two years on the operating table, but I'd spent a career before that lying through my teeth.

"Enough questions for now," I said. Looking out the viewport, I could see that we had entered atmosphere. Since we'd be landing any minute, now was the time to give the orders. "Our first priority is to look for survivors."

"That's unlikely, Commander," Miranda finally spoke. "No one was left at the other colonies. They were completely deserted."

"Be nice to find somebody," Jacob said. "Anything's better than another ghost town."

"Well, let's keep our eyes open," I shrugged. "Just in case there was a surviving eyewitness that could shed some light on what happened. It sounds like that's the only way we'll get any intel."

By that point, the shuttle was on final approach to the landing site that the VI had picked for us. As soon as it landed, we popped out. The thrusters were still winding down as we took our first look at Freedom's Progress.

The buildings were spread out over a wide area slathered in concrete. They were illuminated by overhead lights, their metal walls and doors gleaming. Standard pre-fab stuff. Crates were scattered around. It was quiet. And empty. Not a soul in sight.

After a minute, I got bored and started moving. Miranda and Jacob followed me into the first building. The lights were off at first, but they flickered on when the motion sensors detected our presence. A nearby table held a couple platters of food and a pitcher.

"Looks like everyone just got up and left right in the middle of dinner," Jacob observed.

I led them out of the building and down some stairs into a courtyard filled with more crates. The only thing of note was a door built into a rock outcrop. Mostly because there was nothing else worth seeing in here.

"Aside from the fact that no one's home, you'd never know Freedom's Progress was attacked," I commented.

"Strange," Miranda agreed. "No bodies. No structural damage. No signs of battle."

"Uh huh," I murmured absently. I was tweaking my hardsuit's sensors, trying to pick up anything notable. Anything... hello.

Next to the door was a pile of salvage. Most of it was useless, but my sensors were detecting a couple spare parts that could be salvaged for credits. I picked them up, shrugged, and put them in a side pocket. It didn't look like much, but loot was loot.

Without anything else to grab my attention, I activated the door controls. As the doors lowered, I noticed a pair of LOKI mechs. They were just standing there, motionless. Until we stepped forward. Naturally, they chose that moment to turn towards us.

"Combat systems engaged," they announced pleasantly as they raised their pistols and opened fire.

As we ducked for cover, I heard a strange low-pitched electronic warble.

"Hear that," Jacob asked Miranda. "Sounds like FENRIS mechs."

"That's odd," Miranda frowned. "Security was disabled at the other colonies."

So I got stuck in the one colony that was the exception to the rule. Typical.

I leaned out, just far enough for my sensors to get a good scan. Ducking back, I looked over the sensor readouts...

...and cursed. They had armour. This would be harder than I thought.

At some point, people started figuring that standard-issue hardsuits just wouldn't cut it. So they started adding extra stuff so they couldn't be manipulated by biotics or hacking or whatnot. Which meant that other people had to start developing countermeasures. To deal with electronically-generated shields, you had to whittle them down with rapid-fire weapons or overload them with tech attacks. Biotics were fond of generating protective barriers, but they could be defeated by rapid fire or certain biotic attacks that explosively reacted with any mass effect fields.

As for armour? Offensive biotic abilities, high-impact single shots or good ol' fashioned fire would work just fine. Time to try the plasma function on my omni-tool.

I popped back out and triggered my omni-tool. A small ball of plasma arced over and hit one of the mechs, splashing it with radiant fire. Then I reached over my shoulder. By the time I pulled out my sniper rifle, the plasma round had melted away the armour plating. Activating the disrupter ammo mod on the rifle, I zoomed in, lined up a shot and fired.

Perfect headshot. I still got it.

"This unit is not designed to handle specialized ammo," the remaining mech said, just before its head exploded. "Yes!" Miranda cheered.

"Look out!" Jacob yelled. Three more LOKI mechs were sneaking on our right flank. Thankfully, Jacob had given us enough warning to find some more cover.

Miranda and Jacob opened fire. I didn't, occupied with the sensor readings that were displayed on my HUD. If I was reading this right, there were five enemies in front of us. So where were the other two?

My answer came shortly as a pair of quadruped dog-like mechs trotted out. They kinda looked like varren. Well, if varren had shiny metal skin and a blunt-ended panel with red status lights instead of jaws.

Dog. FENRIS. Got it.

"Anything I should know about these FENRIS mechs?" I called out as they charged towards us.

"They generate EMP blasts that will disable your shields and can cause severe concussive injuries," Miranda said, warping one of the FENRIS mechs with a biotic burst. "Shoot them before they take out your shields."

I took a shot, cursed, and then put away my sniper rifle. They were moving way too fast for me to get a good shot. Seeing that my omni-tool had generated a fresh plasma charge, I fired it at the closest FENRIS mech, pulled out my pistol and finished it off.

Meanwhile, Miranda and Jacob were tag-teaming the remaining puppy. Jacob surrounded it with a biotic field that lifted it up into the air, and then Miranda sent a biotic bolt into the field. As soon as the bolt touched it, the field exploded, turning the FENRIS mech into shrapnel.

Then the three of us turned our attention to the LOKI mechs. They had eschewed any kind of cover, deciding to walk towards us while firing their pistols. If there were more of them, we might have had a problem. Since there were only two, their lack of any tactical programming sent them to an early silicon grave.

"Those mechs shouldn't have fired at us," Jacob frowned. "They should have recognized us as human."

"Someone reprogrammed them to attack on sight," Miranda deduced. "We're not alone here."

Great.

Ejecting my thermal clip, I started hunting for fresh ones to add to my collection, which I suspected would start dwindling. I didn't find clips in any of the nearby buildings, but I did find a med-kit, a wall safe full of creds and some more spare parts to salvage.

Oh, and I also bumped into another pair of mechs. But we took them out without any problems.

The next building was a bit surprising, in that there were actually people inside. Not humans, though, which was funny for a human colony.

They were quarian.

"Stop right there!" one of them yelled, lifting his assault rifle. The three of us raised our pistols in response.

"Prazza, you said you'd let me handle this," a female quarian said, moving in front of him and pushing his weapon down.

That voice...

She turned around to face me. "Wait..."

Was that...

"Shepard?"

...Tali?

"I'm not taking any chances with Cerberus operatives," the first quarian insisted, raising his weapon again.

"Put those weapons down," the female quarian snapped. "Shepard?" she whispered. "Is that... you're alive?"

Definitely Tali. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Fancy bumping into you all the way out here," I said casually. "Don't tell me you're _still_ on your Pilgrimage? What, that geth data I gave you wasn't enough?" **(3)**

"No, it was," Tali reassured me. "Prazza, weapons down," she ordered, turning back to the first quarian. "This is definitely Commander Shepard."

To my relief, he did. "Why is your old commander working for Cerberus?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Tali admitted. "Maybe we should ask."

"I nearly died when the Normandy was destroyed," I said when she turned back towards me. "Cerberus spent the next two years reviving me, then told me about a bunch of attacks on human colonies. None of this was my idea, but..." I shrugged. "What can I say? I was curious."

Tali shook her head. "As if I needed any more proof you're Shepard..."

"A likely story," Prazza scoffed, crossing his arms. "No organization would commit so many resources to bring back one person."

"You haven't seen Commander Shepard in action, Prazza," Tali said. "Trust me, it was money well spent."

"Perhaps we can work together," she tentatively suggested to me. I motioned for her to continue. "We're here looking for a young quarian named Veetor. He was here on Pilgrimage."

I scratched my head. "Why a remote human colony out in the Terminus Systems? Citadel space isn't _that _unwelcoming to quarians, are they?"

"It's not that. Quarians can choose where they go on Pilgrimage. Veetor liked the idea of helping a small settlement. He was always..." Tali paused, trying to find the best way to put it. "He was always nervous in crowds," she finally decided.

Prazza was a little more blunt. "She means that he was unstable. Combine that with damage to his suit's CO2 scrubbers and an infection from an open-air exposure, and he's likely delirious."

"When he saw us landing, he hid in a warehouse on the far side of town. We suspect he also programmed the mechs to attack anything that moved."

Great.

"That would explain the greeting party we encountered earlier," I agreed. "If the last few buildings we've seen are any indication, Veetor's the only one who can tell us what happened here. But thanks to his tinkering, we'll have to go through the mechs first. Our chances of success would be a lot higher if we worked together."

"True. We'd need two teams to get past the drones, anyway," Tali agreed.

Drones as well? Aw, crap.

"Now we're working with Cerberus?" Prazza piped up.

"No, Prazza, you're working for me," Tali snapped. "If you can't follow orders, go wait on the ship."

"Any ideas on how to proceed?" I asked before things got ugly.

"Head for the warehouse through the center of the colony," Tali suggested. "We'll circle around the far side and draw off some of the drones to clear you a path."

"Sounds good," I nodded. As the quarians prepared to depart, I lifted a hand. "Before you go... you guys really don't like Cerberus. What did I miss?"

"They killed our people, infiltrated our flotilla, and tried to blow up one of our ships," Prazza seethed.

"That's not how I'd have explained it, exactly," Miranda objected. "It was nothing personal."

So much for things not getting ugly. I was starting to see why TIMmy put _me _in charge.

Before Prazza or any of the other more hot-headed quarians could react, Jacob stepped in. "We can argue over who killed who later. Right now, we've got a job to do."

"Agreed," Tali said. "We work together to get to Veetor."

"Make sure to keep in contact," I told her, transmitting our comm frequency to her omni-tool.

"Will do," Tali confirmed. "Good luck, Shepard. Whatever happens... it's good to have you back."

With that, the quarians left. We departed a minute later.

* * *

><p>The door we used to exit the building led to a ramp that connected to another building. As we walked along it, the comm clicked on.<p>

It was Tali. _"Be careful, Shepard. There's a squad of security drones up ahead." _

We could see them swooping over us, touching down on the far side of the building we were about to enter. "Thanks for the warning," Jacob replied for us. "We'll take care of them."

First we had to search this building and clear it of any hostiles. There was only a lone LOKI mech, which we shot to pieces before it powered up and got to its feet. Then I swiped everything of value that I could find. Just like old times.

Having done that, I stepped outside. I felt a weird tingling sensation on the back of my neck. The last time that happened...

Aw, crap.

I ducked, just in time to avoid a rocket. As it swooped by overhead and exploded harmlessly in the distance, I cautiously lifted my head. There were a bunch of drones, assault and rocket, flying around. If they were smart, they would've swooped directly overhead, where they could get a clear shot at us. Instead, their limited VIs were content to take pot shots at us from a distance.

Rather than complaining, we took shelter behind some cover and started firing back. After a minute, we'd taken out a rocket drone and two assault drones. Things were going pretty well, all things considered.

Then a rocket exploded next to me.

As my shields dropped precipitously, I looked around. A rocket drone and an assault drone had landed on the roof of a tower, well over our heads. You'd think I would've learned not to think things like that. Of course, I had been out of it for two-plus years. Stifling a curse, I lifted my submachine gun at the rocket drone. I was just about to fire, when its shields exploded in a hail of sparks. Courtesy of Miranda, I later found out. Without its shields, it only took a couple rounds to knock it out. "One left," Miranda said, consulting her own sensor readings.

She was right. Between the three of us, we managed to destroy it in short order.

Just as the drone exploded, Tali contacted us. _"Shepard,"_ she said. _"Prazza and his squad rushed on ahead. I told them to wait, but they wouldn't listen. They want to find Veetor and take him away before you get here!"_

Miranda shook her head. "We should have expected this."

"Come on," Jacob urged. "We can still catch them."

We hurried through another building and started down a flight of stairs. Just as we hit the halfway mark, another swarm of drones swooped down. **(4)**

By this point, we'd figured out a system for dealing with the drones. First priority went to any drones that were flanking us—rocket drones first. If there were no drones sneaking around, take out the rocket drones. No rocket drones—move to assault drones. If there were no drones left, eject partially spent thermal clips—nothing worse than trying to fire at an enemy, only to discover that your thermal clip has been used up—and start scrounging.

I activated my comm. "Tali," I said. "You there?"

"_Yes,"_ she replied immediately. _"You have to hurry, Shepard. We're inside the loading docks."_

Looking around, I saw a building built into a cliff face on the right, with a large set of cargo doors. The loading docks, I guessed.

"_Veetor reprogrammed a heavy mech,"_ Tali continued. _"It's tearing Prazza's squad apart!"_

"They did want to get to Veetor first," Miranda said dryly.

Tali ignored Miranda's comments. _"Get your squad into cover and I'll open the loading bay doors."_

After a quick scrounge for loot, we found cover behind some concrete blocks in front of the loading bay doors. "Ready," I told Tali over the comm.

As the doors opened, I quickly scanned the battlefield. Lower level sprinkled with crates, some of which—according to scans—were a bit more fragile than others. A ramp led up a couple metres to a second 'level', which held three buildings. A quarian was sprinting down the ramp, taking cover behind a crate. Three more quarians were slowly retreating out into the open from behind the left building, firing at something. Something big, judging from the stomping steps I could hear all the way over here.

The heavy mech, which my sensors helpfully identified as a YMIR-class mech, thundered out after them, its every step sending reverberations through the ground. Even from where I was hiding, I could see that it was twice as tall as I was. A rattle of automatic gun-fire blazed from its right arm, knocking two of the quarians over. One of them, a female, tried to get up, only to get crushed to the ground with a cry as the YMIR mech stepped on her. It paused for a moment, as if assessing her status. Apparently it decided she was still a potential threat, as it fired four or five rounds into her head. Looking up, it scanned its immediate vicinity. It focused its attention on the two remaining quarians that had been firing at it earlier and extended its left arm. There was a beeping noise, like something charging up, before a rocket launched from its arm. It whistled across, made a slight course correction and exploded, sending the quarians flying into the air. They staggered to their feet, just in time to receive multiple rounds to their chests.

Panicking, the last quarian, the one we saw running down the ramp earlier, broke his cover and tried to flee for the loading bay doors. This attracted the YMIR mech, who immediately opened fire. As that hapless quarian twitched and shuddered under the onslaught, Miranda, Jacob and I ran into the loading bay.

Jacob hid behind a stack of pipes. "That mech's got heavy armour plating. Those quarians never stood a chance."

"And shields," I noted with dismay, reading the latest scans from my sensors.

Taking cover behind one of many sets of crates, Miranda summed it up quite nicely: "This is gonna be one tough son-of-a-bitch to take down."

Not quite as pithy as "Aw, crap," but pretty damn accurate given the circumstances. I switched over to secure communications, not wanting to broadcast our instructions out loud where the YMIR mech could hear—and potentially understand—us. "Miranda, overload its shields. Once they're taken out, we can start punching through the armour. Jacob, Miranda—tag-team the sucker with your biotics once it's down to its standard chassis."

Miranda nodded, sending a pulse from her omni-tool towards the YMIR mech. Unfortunately, it only drained about a quarter of its shields. I managed to take out another third with my submachine gun before I had to duck for cover behind a set of crates. That damn tingling at the back of my neck flared up again.

"Target locked," it rumbled. A chill ran down my spine as I heard it stomp towards me.

I took another peek, only to see a rocket fly my way. Hastily, I ducked back. I avoided the worst of the resulting blast, but still took enough damage to drain my shields completely. And for all my trouble, what did I learn? That it still had shields.

For the next few minutes, all we could do was take pot-shots at it and hope we didn't get our heads ripped off by a stream of bullets. At one point, I emptied a thermal clip into its head. The YMIR mech turned towards me. "Retargeting," it stated before sending a rocket my way. "Miranda," I yelled, ducking back just in the nick of time. "Any time now!"

"Three seconds to recharge," she called back. "Two... one... here we go!"

She sent another pulse from her omni-tool. This one did the trick, as the shields were finally gone. Unfortunately, her timing was slightly off and there was a large protruding pipe blocking the way, forcing her to break cover in order to get a clear line of sight to attack. The mech paused, swivelled in her direction and fired its mass accelerator cannons at her. I darted to the other side of the crates, hoping to get the drop on it...

...only to see it stomping in my direction, guns a blazing. I hastily fired a plasma round from my omni-tool as I ducked back. It staggered for a moment, announced that it was "rerouting," and then plodded its way towards me.

While I was panting away, my mind raced over what had just happened. For some reason, that damn mech was fixated on me, even though it had a clear shot at Miranda. Maybe it somehow decided I was the greater threat. Maybe it was just determined to take out one target at a time. Whatever the case, it insisted on stomping slowly around the crates, trying to acquire a clear line-of-sight on me. I was equally determined on running around to keep the crates between us, only stopping to fire off a shot or plasma round. Jacob and Miranda took advantage of its obsession to fire at it without fear of reprisal.

I paused at one point to assess its status. Armour still at 66%. Aw, crap.

"Miranda, Jacob," I yelled, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "I'd appreciate it if you could hurt that sucker a little faster. I can't run around in circles all day, you know."

"We're trying, Shepard," Jacob called back over the roar of his shotgun. "Just hang on."

The YMIR mech clipped me with another rocket, draining the last of my shields. "While we're young!" I demanded.

Jacob jumped out of cover. Eschewing his shotgun, he settled for waving his hands up and down. "Hey! Over here!"

"Jacob!"

To this day, I'm still not sure whether Miranda or I yelled at him first. All I know is that his suicidal distraction worked. The YMIR mech paused and started to swivel towards Jacob. I glanced at my shield status. Nope: regen cycle hadn't kicked in yet.

While I would have loved to let someone else carry the bulls-eye for a change, the fact remained that I couldn't afford to throw away any allies-of-convenience right now. Not when I only had two of them. **(5)** Cursing, I activated my cloak, knowing damn well that that would abort any shield regeneration that might have started. I ran out and pulled out my sniper rifle. Not because I needed to reach out and touch it—I mean, the damn thing was right in front of me. But if I had to go risking my neck, I might as well make the most of it.

I took my shot and held my breath as the cloaking field collapsed. Sure enough, the sheer amount of damage I'd dealt bumped my ass up to the top of the YMIR mech's priority list. It turned back towards me as I dove out of the way, presenting its back to Miranda and Jacob. Naturally they took advantage of the opportunity provided.

We did a little more back-and-forth, and way too much ring-around-the-stack-of-crates for my liking. Eventually, we dealt enough damage to punch through its armour plating. "Threat assessment: aggressive," it decided.

Jacob verified the accuracy of its analysis by immediately encasing it in a biotic field. No doubt the intent was to lift it off the ground so we could fire at it without reprisal. For the first couple seconds, it just stood there. Guess it was too heavy. Then it started to lift off the ground, millimetre by millimetre. We never got the chance to find out how high it would go, as Miranda detonated the field with her own biotic abilities.

I picked that moment to activate my cloak again, run out and fire several pistol rounds into its head. As I expected, it crumpled to the ground and exploded.

I did not expect the damn thing to explode with a force that rivalled a low-yield tactical nuke. The crates and debris in its immediate vicinity were vaporized. The shockwave plucked me off my feet and sent me flying all the way into the other end of the courtyard.

By the time my ears stopped ringing, Miranda and Jacob had ran over to me. The latter helped me to my feet. "Are you all right, Commander?" he asked.

"Peachy," I replied. "By the way, do you always make a habit of throwing yourself into harm's way?"

Miranda snorted. I think that was an affirmative.

"My orders are to ensure you complete the mission, no matter what," Jacob said firmly.

I gave him a long look. "You're an idiot," I told him.

"So I've been told."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Having completed that little exchange, I breathed a sigh of relief. That was definitely the most challenging threat I'd faced so far. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to face any of those guys again.

Now that the immediate threat was eliminated, I began my usual scrounging. Found a nice pile of refined iridium, which I snatched up. Figured it might come in handy. Also found a med-kit. At first I thought I couldn't take it with me since my pockets were all full, then I learned I could use my omni-tool to break it down into basic components, which could be sold for more credits.

I also found another YMIR mech—destroyed, thankfully. Much to my surprise, I saw that part of its weapon systems was still salvageable. I started tinkering with it, trying to see if I could remove it.

Jacob saw what I was doing. "Commander," he said. "You can use your omni-tool to scan it, instead. Then we can upload the scan to a fabrication unit and replicate it later."

Well, that took the fun out of it. These guys were such wimps. Why in my day, we staggered around with weapons we couldn't use, just for the sheer joy of lugging extra weight. And we loaded ourselves down with more weapons and equipment than we could possibly use, just so we could carry it around. Uphill. Both ways. Giving in to the inevitable, I followed Jacob's instructions and activated the relevant program on my omni-tool. It only took a second to scan the weapon component.

I found Tali in one of the buildings, tending to a bunch of wounded quarians. Prazza wasn't amongst them. Must've been one of the guys who got shot or blown up in the courtyard outside. "How are they?" I asked.

"They're fine," Tali replied. "I'm just seeing whether any of the hardsuits are punctured, and to what extent."

Kind of a big deal, since that was the only thing that kept a quarian from catching a simple head cold and croaking. "And?" I prompted.

"So far, so good. This is your chance to go find Veetor while I tend to the wounded, Shepard," she added. "He's probably somewhere in the back of the loading bay."

Well, we'd covered most of that area by now. Only thing left to check was one of the buildings. So off we went.

* * *

><p>We opened the door of the last building and stepped into the dark, as someone had turned off all the lights. The only illumination came from a bank of computer monitors. By their glow, we could see that someone was sitting in front of them. Veetor, presumably.<p>

He didn't hear us come in, too busy looking at all the readouts from the computers. "Monsters coming back," he said. "Mechs will protect. Safe from swarms. Have to hide. No monsters. No swarms. No-no-no-no-no."

"Veetor?" I called out, trying to get his attention. 

He was off in his own little world, though, both from his infection and the trauma he'd endured. "No Veetor," he babbled. "Not here. Swarms can't find. Monsters coming. Have to hide."

"No one's going to hurt you anymore," I said.

Veetor just kept typing and yammering away.

"I don't think he can hear you, Commander," Jacob said after a moment.

Yeah, clearly. Time for a new tactic, I decided. Lifting my arm, I started tapping on my omni-tool. Maybe his ears weren't working right now, but his eyes might. If I could just establish a connection...

While I was typing away, Veetor continued muttering. "Have to hide. Have to hide. Mechs will protect. Swarms coming. Storm coming. Storm of swarms. Swarm of—"

At that point, I successfully penetrated the firewalls guarding the computers. With a wave of my hand, I sent a signal to shut down the monitors. That finally got Veetor's attention. He leaned back, looking at the blank monitors in confusion, before looking behind us. Seeing the three of us, he slowly got to his feet.

"You're human. Where did you hide? How come they didn't find you?"

"Who didn't find us?" Miranda asked.

"The... the monsters," Veetor whimpered. "The swarms. They took everyone."

"We're not survivors, Veetor," I replied. "We just got here. Any 'monsters' or 'swarms' had already left."

"You don't know," Veetor realized. "You didn't see. But I did. I see everything."

He reached over and tapped a single key on the console. All the monitors immediately came back, displaying a recording of some of the buildings. There were bugs of some sort, flying all over the place.

"Looks like security footage," Miranda guessed. "He must've pieced it together manually."

As she spoke, we saw a cocoon-like structure float into view. A mass effect field was keeping it hovering above the ground, allowing whoever was behind it to push it with ease.

That someone came into view.

Or something. Bipedal, walking in some kind of... that didn't look like any armour or hardsuit I'd ever seen. Looked more like some sort of carapace or exo-skeleton. The kind of things bugs had. It had this really huge head, too, one that tapered to a set of points at the back. At the front, four eyes blazed out, even through the grainy quality of the vid.

"What the hell is that?" Jacob gaped.

Veetor obligingly froze the recording. Miranda gasped. "My god. I think it's a Collector."

"_That's _a Collector?" Jacob asked.

"_What's_ a Collector?" I chimed in.

"They're a species from somewhere beyond the Omega 4 Relay," Jacob explained. "Only a few people have ever seen one in person."

"They usually work through intermediaries, like slavers or hired mercenaries," Miranda added. "If they're involved with the Reapers somehow, it could explain what happened to the colonies."

"How so?" I asked.

"Rumour has it that the Collectors have some seriously advanced tech," Jacob took over. "Guess it isn't too much of a stretch to imagine they have a weapon that could disable an entire settlement at once."

"The seeker swarms," Veetor confirmed. "No one can hide. The seekers find you. Freeze you. Then the monsters take you away."

"What else can you tell me about the Collectors?" I asked.

"Nobody knows much," Jacob shrugged. "They're so rare; a lot of people don't even believe they exist."

"More importantly, why are they abducting _human_ colonists?" Miranda mused. "What are they after?"

"Maybe the Illusive Man can figure it out," Jacob suggested.

"Well, if we can't figure out why, maybe we can work on how," I said. "Veetor, tell me more about these swarms."

"It's how they find you," Veetor trembled. "Seeker clouds. Machines like tiny insects. They go everywhere. They find you. Then they sting you. Freeze you."

"Sounds like miniature probes, maybe," Miranda theorized. "Find victims, then immobilize them with a stasis field or nerve toxin."

Damn, that's sneaky. And clever. Diabolically clever. Wait: was it wrong that I was admiring these guys? Their tech, anyways.

"But why didn't the Collectors take you too, Veetor?" I asked before I got too distracted.

"Swarms didn't find me. Monsters didn't know I was here," Veetor said simply.

Miranda frowned. "Curious. The Collectors aren't known for being careless."

"Maybe his enviro-suit kept him from showing up on their sensors," Jacob suggested.

"Or they were using technology specifically designed to detect humans," Miranda added. "Only human colonies have been hit."

I turned back to Veetor. "What happened next?"

"The monsters took the people onto the ship, and then they left. The ship flew away. But they'll be back for me. No one escapes!"

Jacob took a look at Veetor, who was started to rock back and forth, and sighed. "I think that's probably all we're getting out of him, Commander."

"We appreciate what you told us," I told Veetor. "You were very helpful."

Veetor nodded. Apparently, he hadn't completely retreated into his own little world. "I studied them. The monsters. The swarms. I recorded them with my omni-tool. Lots of readings. Electromagnetic. Dark energy."

"We need to get this data to the Illusive Man," Miranda said. "Grab the quarian and call the shuttle to come pick us up."

Tali picked that point to come in. "What? Veetor is injured! He needs treatment, not an interrogation!"

Apparently, she'd overheard enough of the conversation. This should be interesting.

"We won't hurt him," Jacob said soothingly. "We just need to see if he knows anything else. He'll be returned unharmed."

"Your people tried to betray us once already. If we give him to you, we'll never get the intel we need," Miranda said.

"Prazza was an idiot, and he and his men paid for it," Tali replied immediately. "You're welcome to take Veetor's omni-tool data, but please. Just let me take him."

"You don't have to take leave," I said. "We could work together after dropping Veetor off with the Flotilla. Just like old times."

"I want to, but I can't," she sighed. "I've got a mission of my own. It's too important for me to abandon, even for you. When it's over, and I'm still alive, we'll see what happens."

"'I'm still alive,'" I repeated with a frown. "That sounds dangerous. What are you doing?"

"I don't think Cerberus needs to hear about it," Tali said.

Fair enough.

"But it's in geth space. That should tell you how important it is."

Pretty much, given all the baggage between quarians and the geth. As for Veetor's fate, Miranda was right as far as she knew: the quarians had gone back on their word once, so who's to say they'd wouldn't do so again? On the other hand, Cerberus apparently didn't make the best first impression. And I knew Tali. Unless she'd had a personality overwrite in the last two years, of course.

Making my decision, I turned around to look at Miranda. "He's traumatized, and he needs medical care. Even if Cerberus had detailed records and personnel experienced in quarian medicine, he'd still be better off with his own people. As long as Tali gives us the omni-tool data, I don't see any reason why she can't take him back to the Flotilla."

"Understood, Commander," Miranda replied curtly.

"Thank you, Shepard," Tali said. "I'm glad you're still the one giving the orders. Good luck out there. If I find anything that can help you, I'll let you know."

* * *

><p>"Shepard," TIMmy greeted me. "Good work on Freedom's Progress."<p>

We had just returned to Minuteman Station, where I'd been told to report immediately to The Man. I was starting to wonder whether he had anything better to do with his time.

"The quarians forwarded their findings from Veetor's debriefing," he informed me. "No new data, but it's a surprising olive branch, given our history. You and I have different methods, but I can't argue with your results."

"You ever think about playing nice once in a while?" I asked.

"Diplomacy is great when it works, but difficult when everyone already perceives you as a threat," he replied smoothly.

Gee, I wonder why people don't greet Cerberus with open arms.

"But more importantly, you confirmed the Collectors are behind the abductions."

I sighed. "Why do I have the feeling you knew about them already?"

"I had my suspicions, but I needed proof," TIMmy admitted. "The Collectors are enigmatic at best. They periodically travel to the Terminus Systems, looking to gather seemingly unimportant items or specimens. Usually in exchange for their technology. When their transactions are complete, they disappear as quickly as they arrived; back beyond the unmapped Omega 4 Relay. Until now, we've had no evidence of direct aggression by the Collectors."

"What are the Collectors getting from these deals?" I asked.

"The Collectors aren't very forthcoming about their motives," TIMmy said.

Right. Like you are.

"Generally, they seek out species with rare genetic mutations or abnormalities. They pay slavers and merc groups exorbitant sums to obtain these specimens. And then they leave. But they've never targeted a single species before. And their previous sample sizes were in the dozens, not the tens of thousands."

Next question: "Miranda and Jacob said the Collectors travel to and from the Omega 4 relay to deal with clients. Why hasn't anyone gone through the Omega 4 relay before? What do we know about it?"

"Dozens, if not hundreds of ships have gone through the Omega 4 relay," TIMmy replied. "Unfortunately, none of them have ever returned."

Oh that's reassuring.

"Our best guess is that the relay reacts different to Collector vessels, allowing them safe passage. If they can manipulate relays, that's just further evidence of their connection with the Reapers."

I still thought TIMmy wasn't telling me everything, but he seemed a bit more willing to let stuff slip than he was earlier. Maybe he'd be willing to share any thoughts he had on why humans were the sudden species of the month. Year. Whatever. "Any ideas on why they've shifted their focus to humans?"

"If they're agents for the Reapers, it could be for any number of reasons," TIMmy replied. "Obviously, humanity played a huge role in Sovereign's destruction. That might have been enough to draw their attention."

Figures. No good deed goes unrewarded.

"What really concerns me is why they bother abducting the colonists. Once the humans are paralyzed, why not just kill them?"

I'd never tell TIMmy this, but I was worried too. If you're going to kill them, why not kill them on the spot? Why abduct them and _then _kill them? Clearly the Collectors had something else in mind, but what?

What I was willing to admit was the fact that I was on to him. He might not be the kind that was easily shaken, but it was clear that playing the dumb grunt would only get me so far. Time to show him that I was only a sort-of-dumb grunt. "You're holding something back," I said bluntly. "How do you know the Reapers are involved?"

"The patterns are there, buried in the data."

Oh that was helpful. Maybe I should've just opened a fortune cookie instead.

"The Council and the Alliance want to believe the Reaper threat died with Sovereign. You and I know better. I won't wait until the Reapers are on the march. We need to take the fight to them."

Well, he had that right. I had to do something. But I couldn't do it alone. "Going up against the Collectors and the Reapers isn't a fight—it's a war. That'll require an army. Or a really good team."

TIMmy leaned over and tapped a spot of empty space. A holographic console display obligingly flickered into view, streams of text scrolling upwards. "I've already compiled a list of soldiers, scientists, and mercenaries. You'll get dossiers on the best of them. Finding them and convincing them to work with you could be challenging, but you're a natural leader."

Stop. Please. You're making me blush.

"I'll continue to track the Collectors. When they make their next appearance, I'll notify you and your team. Be ready."

"I'm sure you have an excellent list of candidates," I smiled politely, "but I've already got a squad—the ones who helped me stop Saren and the geth." People I can trust, I silently added.

"That was two years ago, Commander," TIMmy reminded me. "Most of them have moved on... or their allegiances have changed."

"Where's Kaidan Alenko," I asked, ignoring his earlier words for the time being.

"He's still with the Alliance," TIMmy replied. "Promoted, I believe. His file's surprisingly well-classified."

"Where's Urdnot Wrex?" I tried next.

"He returned to Tuchanka and hasn't gone off-world in over a year. He's trying to unite the krogan clans."

"What about Tali? She already helped us on Freedom's Progress."

"That was unexpected. I need more intel before I commit to that."

"Garrus Vakarian?"

"The turian disappeared a few months after you were declared dead. Even we haven't been able to locate him."

"Liara T'Soni?"

"She's on Ilium. My sources say that she's working for the Shadow Broker. If so, she can't be trusted."

I could say the same about him. Still, he was probably telling the truth when he was saying that they were otherwise occupied. It'd be too easy for me to determine their general status, if not the specifics. "Okay, I get it," I gave up for now. "They're not available."

"You're a leader, Shepard. You'll get who you need."

"I'm also a Spectre," I reminded him. "Maybe I can get the Council to help us out." Fat chance, but anything had to be better than jumping into bed with these guys.

TIMmy smiled politely. "If you think you can convince them, by all means. Just remember—you've been gone a long time. Things have changed."

"We'll see," I replied. "For now, you worry about the Collectors. I'll make sure my squad's ready."

TIMmy took a puff from his cigarette. Probably celebrating this little victory, the creepy-eyed ass. "Good. Two things before you go: first, head to Omega and find Mordin Solus. He's a brilliant salarian scientist. Our intelligence suggests he may know how to counteract the Collectors' paralyzing seeker swarms."

I couldn't help but snort. "I haven't even started, and you're telling me what to do?"

"I'm giving you direction; what you do with it is up to you," TIMmy corrected. "I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

And I'm sure you'll make sure I don't have a choice. "All right. What's the other thing?"

"I've found a pilot I think you might like. I hear he's one of the best. Someone you can trust."

He tapped a control and cut the connection. As the comm grid thingy descended, I wondered who the hell he was talking about.

"Hey, Commander."

No. Freaking. Way.

I turned around.

"Just like old times, huh?" Joker said, with a goofy grin on his face.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe it's you, Joker."<p>

Seriously, I couldn't believe it. It was Jeff Moreau, wise-cracking ace pilot of the Normandy. The last guy I saw before I got spaced. Back then, you could easily ID him amongst all the other navy-clad Alliance members, as he was the only one who couldn't get around without crutches or a hoverchair.

Now? Now he was sporting Cerberus colours, all white and gray and black, with a big honkin' yellow Cerberus symbol on the shoulders of his short-sleeved shirt. Most importantly, he was _walking_. Okay, okay, limping was more like it. But he could actually move under his own power.

And move he did. He had led the way ever since we left the comm room. Based on my limited tour of the facility, Joker seemed to be leading me towards another docking bay. Guess we were headed for whatever hunk of junk Cerberus had scrounged up for me.

Joker brought me out of my introspection with his reply: "Look who's talking. I saw you get spaced."

"Got lucky," I shrugged. "With a lot of strings attached. How'd you get here?"

He paused. For a moment, I thought he was tired. We had been climbing a couple sets of stairs now. Then I saw the look on his face: a mish-mash of disappointment, frustration, betrayal and bitterness.

"It all fell apart without you, Commander," he answered sadly. "Everything you stirred up, the Council just wanted it gone. Crew was broken up, records were sealed and I was grounded."

Ouch. Flying was the one and only thing that made Joker's Vrolik's Syndrome remotely manageable. Without that...

"The Alliance took away the one thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah I joined Cerberus," Joker added bitterly.

So the Alliance REMFs were still a bunch of desk-ridden idiots. Of all the things that stayed the same over the last two years. Still, was Joker still the guy I remembered or had he converted into some limping zealot for the cause? "You really trust the Illusive Man?" I asked.

Joker snorted. "I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do."

Yep: he hadn't changed a bit.

"But they aren't all bad," Joker conceded. "Saved your life. Let me fly. And there's this."

My ears pricked up at that last bit. Sounded like Joker could barely keep himself from jumping up and down, and wrecking whatever medical progress he had made.

We had paused by a large dark hangar. He gestured towards the windows. "They only told me last night," he said softly.

As if on cue, the hangar lights started turning on. One by one, they illuminated its contents from bow to stern.

First I saw the cockpit, adorned with a pair of flaps that thrust forward like the crown of a graceful monarch. Then the hull was gradually revealed. Sleek and aerodynamic, not because of the necessity of such a design in the vacuum of space, but because of the sheer inspiration that came from seeing something that could glide, no, _fly_ amongst the stars. A pair of wings graced her stern like a bird ready to take flight. Each wing was equipped with a set of two-dimensional vectorable engine nozzles to provide the manoeuvrability she needed to dance between mass relays. And finally, a pair of vertical stabilizers, standing proud and tall.

Aside from the fact that she was almost twice the size of the original, and had Cerberus colours splattered all over her, she was the spitting image of a certain ship that had gone down in flames before my eyes.

"It's good to be home, huh, Commander," Joker said casually, after what seemed like an eternity.

Not to be outdone, I nonchalantly shrugged. "Guess we'll have to give her a name."

Neither of us were under any illusions here.

We both knew there was only one possible name.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Codeword clearance restricts access to individuals authorized to work on that particular project, rather than by rank or seniority. As a result, it was not uncommon for non-commissioned or low-level officers to have knowledge of some covert project that captains and admirals did not 'need to know.'<em>

_(2): This is the most blatant statement so far of how much out of his depth Shepard was feeling. I am impressed that he was willing to be so honest about it, rather than ignore his uneasiness__._

_(3): Shepard is referring to data obtained from a computer he found when eliminating a series of geth outposts in the Armstrong Nebula during his hunt for Saren. He gave a copy of it to Tali, who intended to use it to complete her Pilgrimage. _

_(4): Groups of friendly drones are often designated as 'flocks,' while enemy drones are called 'swarms.' _

_(5): Naturally Shepard would resort to rationalization to 'justify' his actions._


	4. Doing What I Do Best

**Chapter 4: Doing What I Do Best**

It took a while to complete the final preparations, get the crew onboard and paint the ship's new name on her hull. I later found out that Miranda had refused to let drones do the painting, citing that the symbolism and connotation behind the name warranted a more personal touch. It was an unexpectedly thoughtful gesture, coming from someone who didn't strike me as a 'people' person.

As I watched TIMmy's Cerberus flunkies start to paint NORMANDY SR-2—what, did you think I'd go for _Enterprise_?—on the hull, something occurred to me: the ship was almost large enough to qualify as a cruiser. **(1)** According to Alliance nomenclature, cruisers were not named after famous battles, so we really shouldn't be naming her the Normandy. Then again, Cerberus wasn't part of the Alliance. And the name just felt so right.

That feeling rose exponentially as I took my first steps through the airlock into the Normandy. It felt like déjà vu. Cockpit at the bow, with Joker grinning widely from the pilot's seat. A short corridor leading from the cockpit, work stations running along either side. And a combat information centre situated at the far end.

Oh, there were some differences. Everything seemed brighter, as if the lights had a little more juice running through them. The CIC's hologram displayed a status display of the Normandy instead of a galaxy map, though I would eventually learn that the galaxy map would replace the status display when I was selecting destinations and whatnot. And it was definitely _bigger_. The path around the CIC seemed twice as wide as the old Normandy's. Clearly Cerberus was overcompensating for something.

Still, despite all the differences, despite her origins, I couldn't look around without one thought running through my head:

I was home.

Miranda and Jacob had accompanied me, the two of them walking a few steps behind me. So they never got to see the grin that refused to go away as I walked towards the CIC. After a minute or so, Jacob finally broke the silence: "Welcome aboard the new Normandy, Commander."

I didn't reply at first, busy as I was getting a better look at the Normandy's status display. The resolution was pretty impressive.

Miranda spoke up next, getting down to business. "I've been looking over the dossiers. I'd strongly recommend starting by acquiring Mordin Solus, the salarian professor on Omega. We know the Collectors use some type of advanced technology to immobilize their victims. We'll need him to develop a countermeasure to protect us."

Reluctantly, I had to admit that she—and TIMmy—had a point. "It would suck if we ran into them without some kinda bug-spray on hand," I nodded.

"Acquiring Professor Solus seems like the most logical place to start," a new voice chimed in. It sounded female, but I detected a distinct synthetic undertone. "Who are you?" I asked, looking around.

A hologram popped up behind me. It was composed of a small sphere propped on a cylindrical platform that tapered out at the bottom. A thin ring was stationed halfway up the platform, circling it like rings circle a planet. The entire structure was outlined in a grid of blue pinpoints, with a wave of brighter blue flowing from bottom to top at regular intervals.

"I am the Normandy's artificial intelligence. The crew likes to refer to me as 'EDI.'"

As it spoke, a series of blue bands situated at the centre of the sphere expanded and contracted. I was more interested in the implications of an AI installed onboard. An actual, self-aware _sentient _intelligence. "Nice to meet you, EDI," I replied politely.

"Likewise, Commander."

"FYI, helmsmen generally aren't happy when someone takes control of a ship away from them," I warned. "Especially Joker."

"I do not helm the ship," EDI corrected me. "Therefore, Mr. Moreau's talents will not go to waste. During combat, I operate the electronic warfare and cyberwarfare suites. Beyond that, I cannot interface with the ship's systems. I observe and offer analysis and advice. Nothing more."

EDI's hologram blinked out before I could say anything. So I said the next thing that popped into my head: "Please tell me that the three of us, Joker and the guys we just passed on the way to the CIC aren't the only ones on this ship."

"The Normandy has a full crew," Miranda confirmed. **(2)** "They're at their stations awaiting your orders."

"Final preparations for takeoff are running ahead of schedule, Commander," Joker reported over the comm. "ETA—eight hours. When you're ready to go, just pick a destination from the galaxy map in the CIC, and I'll plot a course."

"Jacob and I should return to our posts," Miranda said. "Come find us if you have any questions." With that, she left for the elevator. Jacob headed for one of the doors next to the elevator, but not before standing to attention and snapping off a crisp salute.

* * *

><p>Since there was nothing to do for the next eight hours, I decided to do what I did best: mindless wandering and general harassment. <strong>(3)<strong>

My first stop was back to the cockpit to visit Joker. He turned around when I called out to him. "Can you believe this, Commander? It's my baby, _better _than new! It fits me like a glove!"

I got the feeling that he liked the ship. Something to do with how he sounded like a kid in a candy store.

"And leather seats!" he moaned. "Military may set the hardware standard, but on a first-gen frigate they could care _less_ if the seats breathe. Now this? _Civilian_-sector comfort by design."

"The reproduction is not intended to be perfect, Mr. Moreau," EDI told him. For the first time, I noticed her hologram was hovering to the port side of the cockpit. "Seamless improvements were made."

Joker sighed. "And _there's _the downside. I liked the Normandy when she was beautiful and quiet. Now she's got this thing I don't talk about. It's like ship cancer."

"Hate to break it to you, Joker, but it's not the same," I pointed out. "There's nothing here that was even part of the real Normandy."

"There's us," Joker tried. "I have to take what I can get. The last two years _sucked_. You'll see. Even if an AI is spying on us, no way they'll invest this much just to screw us over. It'll be _better_ than the old days."

"I hope so," I replied dryly. "I died."

Joker made a face. "Gah, you're such a downer."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, consider this: after getting spaced, anything's 'better than the old days.'"

"Eh, okay. I'll let you pass this time," he allowed. "Since you're obviously still rusty and all."

As Joker turned back to his console, I walked over to EDI's hologram. "Yes, Shepard?" it asked.

"Thought I'd take the opportunity to learn more about you," I said.

"Do you have a specific inquiry?"

"Well, for starters, why are you named EDI?"

"EDI is a phonetic pronunciation of E-D-I. That is an acronym for Enhanced Defence Intelligence."

"Where are you?" I asked, looking around. "Your hologram pops up here and there, but I'm assuming you must be housed somewhere."

"My core intelligence is housed in a quantum bluebox, located behind the medical bay."

"What exactly do you do aboard the ship? You mentioned something earlier about 'electronic warfare and cyberwarfare suites?'"

"Correct. My reaction time is much faster than any organic," EDI replied. "I also collate the records of shipboard monitoring devices for the Illusive Man."

Say what?

The flashing bands that accompanied EDI's speech suddenly took on a red hue. "I serve additional functions which are restricted at this time."

My curiosity was definitely piqued at this point. "The Illusive Man has monitoring devices on board?"

"He has invested most of Cerberus' resources into the design and construction of this ship. He has an interest in monitoring our progress."

Uh huh. I had no problem with monitoring key sections for security purposes, but not when someone else was spying on us from far, far away. Besides, I had the feeling that TIMmy would be a bit more invasive. I quickly moved on to another point that EDI had brought up: "Restricted functions? Like what?"

That red flash came back. "I do not know," EDI admitted. "Some of my databases are sealed. Some of my hardware is kept offline. I assume that when certain unknown conditions are met, those functions will be released to me."

Oh that's just peachy. "But until then, you can do other things. Like cyberwarfare. Is that just sticking the odd virus in a server or can you do more?"

"In close range ship-to-ship combat, I can sometimes break through the firewalls of an enemy's internal wireless network. Once I seize control of their systems, I can turn off gravity or air. I can disable weapons guidance or shields. Or I can put their fusion plant in meltdown. On the defence, I manage Normandy's own suite of jammers, decoys and internal firewalls."

My eyebrow jerked up as EDI recited its capabilities. "Sounds incredibly useful," I marvelled. "Why isn't there someone like that on every warship?"

"An organic operator cannot react quickly enough to changing circumstances or perform the necessary multitasking. This is a role that can only be filled by an artificial intelligence. Unfortunately, we are suspect."

"Might have something to do with how an AI almost destroyed galactic civilization," Joker interrupted. "Just putting it out there."

"Let's discuss something else," I butted in.

"Ready."

"I want to know more about the people I'm working with." With, not for. That was important.

"Much of that data is classified," EDI informed me, over the glare of red flashes. "Do you have a specific inquiry?"

"How is Cerberus organized? Aside from the Illusive Man, I don't see much chain of command."

Apparently that question was acceptable, judging by EDI's return to a completely blue avatar. "Cerberus is organized into task-oriented cells. Each operates in isolation. Members from one cell cannot recognize the members of another. Each cell's agents are led by a single operator. We are called the Lazarus Cell, which is directed by Operator Lawson."

"How many cells are there, aside from this one?"

"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question," EDI replied in a strobe of red flashes.

Really? "You mean it's classified?"

"At its most basic level, yes. More specifically, while I am less controlled than other AIs, I am still subject to behavioural blocks and the physical isolation of my hardware. In this case, I am prevented from truthfully answering your question by Cerberus' levels of secret classification."

Well, at least it was honest about it. "What sort of resources does Cerberus have? You know—money, personnel, facilities..."

"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."

"How did Cerberus replicate the most advanced warship in the Alliance Navy without anyone knowing?"

"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."

"How are you getting along with Joker?"

Believe it or not, EDI didn't have any blocks regarding that inquiry. "Mr. Moreau does not trust me. It offends him that I am installed aboard 'his ship's' computers."

"Yeah, the last Normandy did just fine without an AI reminding me the airlock is ajar," Joker said.

"That's it for now," I decided.

"Logging you out, Shepard."

* * *

><p>I left the cockpit and was on my way to check out the rest of this deck, when a red-headed woman intercepted me.<p>

"Commander Shepard?" she greeted me, standing to attention and offering a passable salute. "I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers. I've been assigned as your administrative assistant. I'll manage your messages and help you monitor the crew. And I must say, it's such an honour to work under you, Commander Shepard."

"I'm glad to have you on the team, Ms. Chambers," I said without a beat.

"Please, call me Kelly," she smiled.

"Okay, Kelly," I shrugged. "You mentioned that you're my administrative assistant. What are your responsibilities?"

"I'll keep you notified of any messages or appointments you might have. If any of the crew has important business to discuss, I'll make sure you know."

I frowned in confusion. It was good to clarify that she wouldn't be handling day-to-day operations or anything, as that was really the XO's job. Still, there was a reason why yeoman and adjutant positions had been phased out. "Isn't that the type of task better suited for a VI? Or an AI, in our case," I added, remembering my earlier conversation with EDI.

"Yes, but being your yeoman is just my official role. Unofficially, I observe the crew."

Uh huh.

"Everyone knows how risky our mission is. Many of us may not be coming back. That's a lot of pressure."

You don't say.

"I have a degree in psychology. I'm good at sensing when people are overly taxed."

"You make sure the crew's mental health is sound?" I asked for confirmation.

"Yes," Kelly nodded. "I look for warning signs. I listen. It's not a full-time job and it's most effective when done informally."

Great. A Cerberus shrink. "We're lucky to have someone with your skills, Kelly," I said, plastering a smile on my face.

She seemed to buy it. "Thank you, Shepard. What else would you like to know?"

In for a penny... "How 'bout your thoughts on Cerberus. This organization has a dark reputation. Do you have any concerns working for them?"

"Not at all. Our methods can be harsh, but Cerberus has noble objectives."

And that makes it all better. "Really?"

"We look out for human interests. Advance human technologies. Save human lives. They're good goals."

"By themselves, yes. But it sounds like Cerberus wants to dominate all aliens and install humankind on top," I rebutted.

"Cerberus looks out for humanity, but that doesn't mean we hate aliens," Kelly protested. "My sister started a dog shelter, but she loved cats too."

I made a mental note not to sit, pant or roll over any time soon.

"I love humanity," Kelly declared. "I also love asari, quarians, turians, salarians, hanar... that isn't in conflict with Cerberus ideals."

Someone had definitely grabbed more than one cup from the punch bowl. Not that I could say that out loud. "That's a very positive attitude," I said instead.

"What can I say?" Kelly grinned. "I'm a people person."

"Clearly."

"Anything else you'd like to talk about?"

"How do you get assigned to the Normandy?"

"I was handpicked by the Illusive Man to help fight the greatest threat known to humanity," she answered.

"He tell you what you were signing up for first?"

"Well, um, no. But I trusted that he would divulge the necessary information when it was appropriate—which he did."

Oh yeah. Definitely gulping down the Cerberus punch. "Well, now you know what you're facing," I said. "How do you feel, exactly?"

"To be honest? Honoured, exhilarated, terrified. But mostly I feel encouraged. Under your leadership, we can't fail."

Chalk up yet another person who bought my reputation hook, line and sinker. Nice to see some things never change. "Don't worry. We'll defeat the Collectors."

"I trust you implicitly," Kelly said. "The moment I met you, I knew I could close my eyes, fall back, and you'd be there."

Oooookaaaaay.

"Your trust is well placed, Kelly," I finally said.

"I knew it would be. Thank you, Shepard."

* * *

><p>Not wanting to stick around any longer, I left to explore the rest of the ship. That took longer than you might think. Take the level I was on, for example. On the old Normandy, there was a comm room behind the CIC, with doors leading to stairs that went down to the next deck. Here, the entrance to the comm room was replaced with an elevator. The doors on either side led to two separate rooms.<p>

The starboard door led to the technical laboratory, or 'tech lab.' Apparently I could research, order and construct upgrades for weapons, equipments and the ship there. I say 'apparently,' because the lab was sealed. When I tried to get in, EDI informed me that no one was allowed inside without a qualified scientist. And they say Cerberus is free of stupid rules and regulations. Mind you, operating without rules and regs led to bright ideas like trying to breed rachni armies and eating popcorn while Alliance troops became thresher maw chow, so maybe it was good that they were keeping the lab sealed for now.

I had better luck with the port door, though. That led to the armoury, where all our weapons were kept. I noticed a couple new weapons that I hadn't seen before. Actually, I'd never seen _any _of these weapons before.

Jacob was there doing some maintenance on one of the pistols. Looked like this was his post. I whistled to get his attention.

He turned around and saluted. "Commander."

"Jacob," I nodded. After a moment, I offered a quick salute of my own. Too fast to be a proper salute, but it seemed enough to satisfy him. "I noticed a few weapons here that I don't recognize. Think you can ID them for me? Say, that one?" I pointed at a random weapon, which turned out to be some sort of shotgun.

"There hasn't been time to really settle in and take stock," Jacob apologized "but let's see." He picked up the shotgun. "Lieberschaft 2180. A.k.a. the 'Eviscerator.' Shaves off serrated metal edges so the pellets can fly aerodynamically. This baby is better at punching through armour and can hit targets at longer ranges than most shotguns." He paused before adding "If you don't mind breaking several intergalactic weapons treaties."

Uh huh. "What about this?" I asked, pointing to the sniper rifle.

Jacob put down the shotgun and picked up the sniper rifle. "Incisor sniper rifle. Military and police model. Fires three shots with each pull of the trigger."

"Sounds like a long-range assault rifle," I observed. "Wouldn't that affect its accuracy? Or make more noise?"

Jacob shook his head. "The burst is fast enough that all three rounds would hit the target before the barrel drifts a millimetre. And the noise of the burst isn't any different from a single sniper rifle shot."

"How does it compare with the Mantis rifle that I was using earlier?"

"Fifteen shots per clip times two clips, versus one shot per clip times ten for the Mantis," Jacob recited from memory. "Each round from the Incisor does about twenty percent of the damage of a single Mantis round."

So even a burst of three rounds would only cause sixty percent of the damage compared to the Mantis? By the time the second or third shot was fired, the target could have moved. That didn't seem very impressive.

Jacob must have seen the look on my face. "Its primary purpose was to take out shields, Commander. It's your choice whether to take it or not. Here are the specs on all the weapons we have so far." He leaned over a counter to pull out a datapad and passed it to me. I belatedly grabbed it after a minute, as I was still mentally comparing the two sniper rifles.

"By the way," he added "you can also choose which weapons your squad takes on missions. Perks of being squad leader."

"Good to know," I nodded. "And thanks for the brief weapons spiel and the datapad. That's more info than I had when I first came in. Anything else you can tell me?"

"Well... off the record?"

I motioned for him to continue.

"I want to say that working with you is a great opportunity to do something that matters," Jacob said sincerely. "It's a privilege to serve on the Normandy, Commander."

"Thanks, but you may change your tune if we end up like the original Normandy," I smiled.

He shrugged. "Maybe. As long as the Illusive Man walks his talk, and you do the same, I'll do my best to make sure we succeed. That's been the condition for my service so far. I have... issues with certain actions Cerberus has taken in the past."

"What has Cerberus done to make you nervous?" I asked.

"A _lot_," Jacob replied darkly. "They've been called terrorists, and with good reason. Doubt you can find a more checkered past. But if the Collector threat is real, and we do something about it, Cerberus will be remembered differently.

"Or we'll all be tried and executed," he grinned. "Can't count on people thinking about it as hard as I have."

Jacob was definitely owning up to the impression I'd formed of him as a straight-shooter. As Cerberus guys go, it was nice to see someone who didn't follow the party line. "It's good to hear a clear opinion," I offered. "Sounds like we're two of a kind."

I think I made his day with that comment. For a moment, I swear I could see him blush. "That honours me more than you, Commander," he said after a moment. "I, uh, I gotta get back to work. Let me know if you need anything."

He saluted again before turning back to his pistol.

* * *

><p>Apparently the command deck, which housed the CIC, the armoury, the still-inaccessible tech lab, and the comm room—accessible via a corridor that connected the armoury and tech lab—was Deck Two. Of Five. I was tempted to see what was on Deck One, but I decided to go down instead.<p>

Deck Three was _huge_. It had crew quarters, observation rooms, life support and a whole bunch of other rooms. Like restrooms. Just to test out how much attention EDI was paying, I checked out the woman's restroom. EDI promptly informed me that the men's restroom was on the port side of the ship.

As I walked along, I marvelled at how closely Cerberus had reproduced the Normandy, at least on this level. There was an office right where my old quarters used to be—apparently that was Miranda's office/quarters. There was a mess hall right where the old Normandy's mess hall used to be as well, though this one had a galley as well. Bunch of sleeper pods flanked a corridor that led to a main battery room, where a gunnery officer could direct weapons fire. Of course, the Normandy didn't _have _a gunnery officer yet, so it was sealed. Sickbay was right where it used to be, too. For some reason, that's where the AI Core Room—where EDI's bluebox—was stored. Right through a door at the back of sickbay. Like everything else, the sickbay looked larger than the old Normandy's. It also had glass windows, which allowed me to see the chief medical officer, hard at work.

A very familiar CMO. I made a bee-line straight for sickbay.

"Doc, I need an eye checkup," I said as soon as the sickbay doors closed behind me. "I think I'm seeing things. Like the fact that you bear a remarkable resemblance to my old CMO."

"Commander Shepard," Dr. Chakwas greeted me warmly. "I watched the Normandy crumble with you onboard. It's good to see you alive. Scars and all."

"It's good to _be _alive," I smiled. "And it's nice to see another familiar face, Doctor."

"I feel the same," Dr. Chakwas nodded. "I wish more of the original crew could be here." She appraised me for a moment before continuing. "The kind of trauma you endured would've changed most people, but not you, I see."

"I wouldn't say that," I snorted. "Scars, remember?"

"I meant psychologically, and you know that, Shepard," she chuckled. "Welcome back."

As great as it was to see her, her presence did raise some questions. "Doctor, you've been with the Alliance for years. Why leave now?"

"After the Normandy was lost, the surviving crew was reassigned," she replied. "I was stationed at the Mars Naval Medical Centre. A very... respectable position, but it wasn't on a starship."

"If I remember correctly, you said that you'd occasionally entertained the idea of opening a planetside clinic or something similar," I recalled, "but you always dropped that thought after a while. Colonial military life really isn't for you, huh?"

She smiled and leaned towards me. "I've spent most of my life on warships, never knowing what the next mission might bring. I'm used to the hum of engines, the creaking of bulkheads, that subtle vertigo when the momentum dampeners kick in. Life planet-side is just too static, too boring."

I loved the way she phrased that. Civvies who don't spend time in space can't possibly appreciate subtle details like that. They certainly couldn't have summed it up so perfectly. Still, I didn't forget a troubling detail that was nagging me. "That may be, Doctor, but that doesn't explain why you're here. You're not the Cerberus type."

Her response was immediate: "I don't work for Cerberus; I work for you—on a mission that may be crucial to the survival of the human race. I have faith that your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical. I trust you, Commander."

Right. No pressure. "There's a very good chance this mission will be a one-way trip," I warned her. "Are you prepared for that?"

"I've been through the Reclaiming of Shanxi and the Skyllian Blitz," Chakwas replied calmly. "We survived the Battle of the Citadel and the destruction of the Normandy together. I've lived a full life—no regrets. I'd like to make sure the crew gets the same opportunity."

"Do you have everything you need?" I asked, looking around.

"I believe so," she assured me, following my gaze. "This medical bay seems very much like the sick bay on the original Normandy. Only thing missing are my private reserves. A bit of scotch, some whisky... I even had a bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy that I was saving for a special occasion."

Dr. Chakwas kept a private stock of booze? That was news to me. But then we never talked all that much on the old Normandy.

"I'll keep an eye out for a replacement bottle," I said on impulse. No, I have no idea where that came from.

"Oh, you needn't," Chakwas shook her head. "It's expensive and we have much larger concerns ahead."

I don't know about that. They say nothing prepares you for a suicidal mission quite like getting absolutely plastered. Still, if she had everything else in order... "Well if you change your mind, let me know the next time I pop by."

"Of course, Commander."

* * *

><p>I walked through the mess hall on the way to Miranda's office. As I walked by, one of the crewmen—I later learned his name was Hawthorne—grimaced and slapped his fork down on the table. "Chef's surprise again?" he complained, a scowl on his face. "Come on, Rupert."<p>

"I'm sorry, princess," a bald man called back sarcastically. "Filet mignon and caviar coming right up. Let me just get out my doilies."

"Gee, would you do that? That'd be real nice, Mr. Gardner," the crewman muttered.

On a whim, I veered over to greet the bald man. He was muttering under his breath and banging pots and pans until he saw me.

"Someone mention filet mignon?" I joked.

"Commander Shepard, the hero of the Citadel," he grinned. "You did humanity proud that day. Mess Sergeant Rupert Gardner here. How can I be of service?"

"Just making the rounds, getting to know everybody," I replied. "Who they are, what they do here and so on. I have the answer to that first one now. How 'bout filling me in on the rest?"

He laughed. "You mean what I do here? Better question is what _don't_ I do? Most think of me as the ship's cook, but I'm also the facilities technician and custodian. HVAC, plumbing, non-mission-critical electrical—I make sure they're all clean and running."

"So the man cleaning the toilets is also preparing the meals?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gardner shuffled his feet. "I wash my hands... most of the time. This ain't no luxury liner. You have to pull your own weight on a Cerberus vessel, and I catch what falls through the cracks." His lip twitched. "Heh... through the cracks."

Toilet humour. Gotta love it. Making a mental note to stick to rations for the immediate future, I moved onto another question: "How do you feel about working for Cerberus?"

"Damn proud!" he replied immediately. "Cerberus gets the job done." A scowl swept over his face as he continued. "The Alliance and Council have got their heads buried so deep up their butt puckers they can't see squat. It'll take good ol' fashioned human ingenuity to crush these Collector vermin. Only Cerberus knows that."

Ah, pro-human jingoism. How I missed it—not.

"How did you find your way into Cerberus?" I asked curiously.

"Can you believe I was once a family man, working the eezo rigs along the frontier?" he started. "I was happy enough."

Then his face dropped into misery. "But losing everything to batarian raiders can change your outlook. I needed to make a difference. I'm no soldier, but I've got skills, and Cerberus keeps an eye out for talent.

"I'll do whatever it takes to help," he promised firmly, "be that plumbing a sewer, routing an air duct, or keeping everyone's bellies full."

"How're you doing here?" I asked.

Gardner sighed, leaning on the counter. "I make do, but have you ever tried to prepare a decent meal with military provisions?"

All thoughts of staying away from the cooking were abruptly blown out of the water.

He nodded sympathetically as I shuddered. "I'm good, but I'm no miracle worker. Taking down the Collectors is going to be tough business." His eye drifted to the crewmen in the mess hall. "Everyone on this crew has sacrificed a lot to get here. They deserve a few fine meals before throwing themselves into the fire."

"Hard to motivate people when the reward is sitting down to another 'mystery meal,'" I agreed. "What do you need?"

"If I had some quality ingredients..." he stopped, as if realizing who he was talking to. "...aw, shit," he proclaimed, pushing himself off the counter. "You've got more to worry about than grocery shopping on the Citadel. Forget I mentioned it."

"I'll probably head that way sooner or later," I shook my head. "If I do, I'll keep an eye out."

He seemed surprised that a big hot-shot officer would care about some lowly grunt's concerns. "Much appreciated," he said, handing over a datapad. "Most of this list is probably standard fare for those namby-pambies on the Citadel."

"No doubt," I laughed. "Hopefully that'll mean it'll be easy to find and not outrageously priced."

"Hopefully. Anything else you'd like to talk about?" he asked.

"No, I won't take any more of your time," I replied. "Still got places to go, people to see."

"Back to work," he nodded.

* * *

><p>Gardner was funny. Like one of those ol' salts who'd seen it all. Miranda was a bit more serious.<p>

"Commander," she said when I walked in. "What can I do for you?"

"Just checking in. Anything I should know regarding the Normandy?" I asked.

"The crew's working well, and the ship appears to be performing to specifications," she reported.

"Speaking of crew," I said casually, "I've been walking around, shaking hands, asking people what they do here. So now it's your turn. What exactly are your duties, aside from keeping an eye on me?"

"I'm the Illusive Man's agent. You're his most important asset."

"I feel so loved."

Miranda carried on as if I hadn't interrupted. "Put simply, my job is to make sure you succeed. Aside from that, I send regular reports to the Illusive Man, updating our status. I also handle day-to-day operations, maintenance and logistics."

"Which effectively makes you my XO and second-in-command," I observed.

"Exactly."

Well, she seemed a lot more forthcoming now. Guess our little mission together on Freedom's Progress convinced her that I wouldn't get everyone killed after all. At least, not right away. I took another step in and let the doors close behind me. "Do you have a minute for me to pick your brain, Miranda?"

Miranda seemed to understand what I meant. "No doubt you've got a lot of questions about Cerberus."

"You might say that," I said, sitting down on the sofa on the other side of her desk.

She leaned forward. "Cerberus isn't as evil as most people believe. If I can help allay any of your concerns, I'd be happy to do so. What would you like to know?"

I began with the most obvious: "I know what we're doing here, but what's Cerberus' long-term goal?"

"The advancement of the human race. Nothing more, nothing less," Miranda replied. "The salarians have the Special Tasks Group. The asari have their legendary commandos for stealth and recon operations. Cerberus is humanity's answer to those organizations."

"But those organizations are regulated by governments," I pointed out. "Who keeps Cerberus in check?"

"Nobody. We're privately funded, and our backers trust the Illusive Man to make the right decisions. But he's very clear about our goals: protect humanity and serve its advancement."

"But I thought you guys were all compartmentalized into cells. How do you know that one of the other cells hasn't deviated from those goals? Or the Illusive Man himself?"

"We don't," she admitted. "But not everyone agrees with our goals or the dedication with which we seek to meet them. Compartmentalization is a necessary evil to allow us to serve humanity's interests."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"It bothers me a great deal. But if we succeed in this mission and earn favour from the rest of the galaxy, maybe we can change that."

"How do you intend to accomplish your goals? Militarily? Politically? Or a bit of both?"

"Cerberus has several divisions: political, military, scientific. But we're all working towards the same goal. The teams you encountered before your... accident were mostly part of our military division. But not all Cerberus organizations use the same protocols. We try not to get bogged down in bureaucracy or formality."

"What kind of resources does Cerberus have?" I asked, remembering EDI's less-than-helpful answer to the same question.

"We're very well-funded, though I doubt anyone other than the Illusive Man knows exactly how well. But our resources aren't unlimited. Reviving you and rebuilding the Normandy was a significant investment. And a significant risk. We're all hoping you can do the impossible, Shepard. No pressure."

While her tone so far was significantly friendlier than any of our previous conversations, she said the last two sentences... lightly. Like she was trying to be funny. Hmm. "What can you tell me about the Illusive Man?"

"Not much that you don't already know," Miranda admitted. "Even I don't have access to most of his background. And you've seen more of him than most ever do. It's rare for him to become directly involved in missions, but you're something special. Whatever else people might say about him, I can assure you he's got humanity's best interests at heart. That includes you and me."

I frowned. "How can you be sure of that if you know so little about him?"

"I didn't get to where I am without knowing how to gauge people's motives and ambitions. Even from brief encounters. He's no saint, and he'd be the first to admit it, but he is committed. Humanity couldn't have a better advocate."

We'd have to agree to disagree on that, I thought. Meanwhile, since she was being so candid... "Enough about Cerberus and its boss," I decided. "Tell me about yourself, Miranda."

"Hmm, I guess that's fair. I've spent the last two years learning everything there is to know about you after all."

"I do have a bit of catch-up," I agreed.

She got up and started to pace behind her desk. "Well, you should probably know that I've had extensive genetic modification. Not my decision, but I make the most of it."

Interesting that she was modded without her say-so.

"It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me. I'm very good at just about anything I choose to do."

"You certainly don't lack for confidence," I agreed.

"It's just a fact," she replied. "My reflexes, my strength, even my looks—they're all designed to give me an edge. No point hiding from it. It's the reason I'm trusted to oversee the most dangerous, risky and technically demanding operations Cerberus undertakes. And it's why I was assigned to you. It's my job to make sure you succeed, Shepard."

"What level of genetic modification are we talking about? I'm guessing it goes beyond the standard package they give to Alliance marines upon enlistment."

"It's very thorough. Physically, I'm superior in many ways. I heal quickly and I'll likely live half again as long as the average human. My biotic abilities are also very advanced... for a human. Add to that some of the best training and education money can buy and, well, it's pretty impressive, really."

"Sounds like you were designed to be perfect," I commented.

"Maybe, but I'm not," she said seriously. "I'm still human, Shepard. I make mistakes like everyone else. And when I do, the consequences are severe. Everyone expects a lot from someone with my... abilities."

"No pressure," I repeated her earlier comments. She didn't crack a smile. Her face was a blank mask. The only expression came from her eyes, which briefly flashed a hint of, well, sadness.

"Thanks for the information, Miranda," I said after a moment. It was clear that I'd stumbled into a sore spot, and for once I didn't want to jeopardize what progress we'd made in our working relationship for the sake of my curiosity. "I'll talk to you later."

"Of course, Commander. Whatever you need."

* * *

><p>Deck Four held a couple cargo holds, one on each side of the ship, as well as Main Engineering. The latter was the only one with anyone inside.<p>

When I entered, I saw a man and a woman tapping at some consoles. After a minute, I coughed.

The man turned around, saw me and gaped. "You came all the way down here to see us?" he asked with a Scottish accent.

The woman turned around and immediately gave me a salute. "You're speaking to our commanding officer," she hissed.

"At ease," I soothed. The two immediately assumed parade rest stance, making it pretty obvious that they were ex-Alliance. "Seriously, relax. I'm just touring the ship, getting to know my crew." Wait—my _crew_? Since when did these guys become my crew?

The Scottish man went first. "I'm Engineer Ken Donnelly, handling the power control systems. This is Gabby."

"That's Engineer Gabriella Daniels, actually" she corrected him. "I'm responsible for the propulsion systems."

"What can we do for you, Commander?" Ken asked.

"Like I said, I'm just getting to know everybody," I said. "Why don't we start with where you received your training?"

"Both Gabby and I started in the Alliance, serving on the SSV Perugia," Ken replied.

"Perugia," I repeated. "Wasn't that part of the Fifth Fleet?"

"She flew in the first wave at the Battle of the Citadel," Gabby confirmed. "We saw Sovereign first-hand."

"Well you obviously left the Perugia since then. And since it's not SOP to get transferred from Alliance ships to Cerberus vessels, I'm guessing something happened."

"After you died, Anderson lost political clout," Ken explained. "The Council backslid on the Reaper menace."

Gabby took over. "They discounted Sovereign as an isolated threat, as a single—"

"Which was bullshit!" Ken interrupted angrily. "They said your warnings of a greater danger were mistaken or delusional."

"We lost respect for Alliance leadership," Gabby continued. "We need to fight the real enemy, and only Cerberus seemed to be doing that."

Some things were starting to become clear. "So that's how you wound up with Cerberus, Ken? Because of the Council sticking their heads in the sand?"

"Once you were gone, the Alliance brass descended like vultures, tearing apart everything you'd said." Ken frowned. "I was very public with my defence for you. I didn't hold back."

"That's an understatement," Gabby grinned. "If Kenneth wasn't such a talented engineer, they'd have court-marshalled him for insubordination."

"But it got me noticed by the Illusive Man," Ken finished. "He made an offer, and here I am."

"And you, Gabby?" I asked. "Why did you join?"

She glanced at Ken. "Kenneth and I have been partners in crime since we graduated from tech academy. When he got the Cerberus offer, I insisted that it include me. He'd fall apart without me."

"Thanks, mum," Ken rolled his eyes.

"Also, I love engines, and the Normandy is state-of-the-art," Gabby added. "When I got the opportunity to work on her, I had to jump."

"So what do you guys think about Cerberus?"

"Actually, we don't know much about the organization other than the Normandy team," Gabby shrugged. "We know our mission and who's in charge. That's it."

Ken clapped his hands excitedly. "We're off to kick the Collectors right in their daddy bags. That's enough for me."

So they might be card-carrying members, but they didn't necessarily frame their membership on a wall and recite daily pledges of loyalty to it. Good sign.

"Are you set up okay down here?"

"We can't complain," Ken sighed. "I just wish it didn't take so long to calibrate the FBA arrays—"

"Kenneth, you're complaining," Gabby interrupted.

I got the feeling that the two had quite the dynamic going on, what with the way they went back and forth like that, and found myself wondering whether the fact that they were both redheads had any impact at all. Shelving that aside, I asked "What kind of problems are you having?"

Ken started to explain. "When they upgraded the Normandy design, they got a bit sloppy with the FBA couplings. I won't bore you with tech, but there is an array of attenuators in the primary power transfer system that channels the field bleed—"

"Kenneth, you're boring the commander with tech," Gabby interrupted again. She summarized the situation: "In short, if we had T6-FBA couplings installed, it'd save us a lot of maintenance time each day."

Strange that Cerberus would go so far to show they're better than the Alliance, more effective than the Alliance and then fumble the ball like that. "Why isn't something like that already installed? I mean, they installed an AI, so you'd think that the proper couplings would be easy in comparison."

"It's probably just a design oversight," Gabby waved it off. "Efficiency isn't affected. It's a maintenance issue. "

"Also, the T6 model can be hard to find. Nashan Stellar Dynamics discontinued them," Ken added.

"So where could we find them?" I asked. "Do we have to rummage the local scrap yards or place bids on extranet auction sites?"

"We could probably find used ones in the Omega markets," Gabby suggested. "But we have no time for shore leave."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for them," I said. "Until then, I guess you'll get real familiar with what you've got.

Ken laughed, albeit ruefully. "Aye. That's a fact."

"Carry on," I told them.

"Will do, Commander."

As I left, I overheard Ken whisper to Gabby: "I'm amazed Shepard came down to see us."

"I told you he would," Gabby replied.

* * *

><p>Deck Five housed the hangar, which consisted mostly of a single UT-47 Kodiak Drop Shuttle and a few pieces of equipment. Since the new Normandy was twice the mass of the original, it was impossible for her to land on most planets. The Kodiak was the only way to get us planetside for any missions that might come up. Needless to say, it would be used very frequently.<p>

On the upside, it could hold up to fourteen people—including the pilot and co-pilot, contained a great ECM suite and boasted a strong kinetic barrier system. On the downside, it was damn tight in there—almost as bad as the Mako—and it had no weapons. My chief concern was the fact that its thrusters were for directional control only. Its main means of flight lay in using its large eezo core to nullify the Kodiak's mass and generate mass effect fields to move it up, down or around. As a result, if the mass effect field failed, the Kodiak would become one very expensive coffin. **(4)**

Since there was nothing else to see, I figured it was time to check out Deck One. A.k.a. 'The Loft,' as it was directly underneath the exterior pressure hull. Everyone, including me, would come to call it something else: the Captain's Cabin.

My first impression was that it was definitely bigger—it was at least half again as large as my old quarters. And better-lit, too. As I looked around, I started to pick out more details.

A large glass display case on the right divided the room into two. It was designed to hold model ships, judging by the scale model of the Normandy SR-2 hanging front and centre. In the 'upper half,' a long desk ran along the length of the display case and down the wall to the corner. A lot of stuff was already piled on top, including a bunch of folders—looked like the dossiers on everyone TIMmy thought I should shanghai—a computer console, a display case with copies of all the medals that had been foisted on me over the years, and a small stack of reference texts. Above the books lay a couple shelves, where I could find a bunch of manuals and other reference material. And next to the bookshelves lay an actual restroom. Yep, Cerberus apparently felt that the commanding officer warranted his own restroom.

A small set of stairs led down to the 'lower half.' There, I could find a closet on the left hand side that held a number of outfits for casual wear. There were also slots there to hold my hardsuits and all the components that I might want to swap in and out. A large king-sized bed was planted in the centre of the far wall. A small working desk, complete with chair and desk lamp, sat along the right wall. And a bunch of chairs and sofas scattered around, including one large comfy one right under the display case.

Oh, and did I mention the aquarium? The one spanning most of the left hand side? It was empty for the moment, but it was already filled with water, random rocks and plants on the bottom and a food dispenser.

This was all looking way too good to be true.

Maybe it was the way Cerberus wasted two years and four billion plus creds to bring my sorry ass back from the dead and gave me free hardsuits and weapons, a new ship that put the old Normandy and every other warship out there to shame, a full crew, and a mission relevant to humanity. Maybe it was the fact that I still had that tingling feeling on the back of my neck. I was starting to suspect it effectively replaced the paranoid voice that used to scream in my head whenever the excrement hit the rotary oscillator. If so, someone had definitely botched things up while I was on the operating table. Maybe it was yet another one of EDI's holographic projectors, situated on the left wall between the door and the aquarium, reminding me that Big Sister was watching.

Either way, I still had three hours before we were ready to leave. So maybe I had some spare time on my hands to address my concerns.

First: my hardsuit. Nothing much to change—except for the colour. Yep, I could change the pattern scheme and colours on my hardsuit. I allowed myself a few minutes to try some outlandish colour schemes before settling on a nice dull black with blue highlights.

Second task was to choose some casual wear to strut around in while onboard the Normandy. Hmm: short-sleeves and pants. Black and white with a huge honkin' yellow Cerberus logo on the shoulder. Pass.

Dress uniform, also in black and white. Had a yellow Cerberus logo as well, but much smaller. Nah: why dress up on a Cerberus vessel when it was never my thing on any Alliance warship?

Some brown and black leather ensemble consisting of vest, sleeveless shirt and pants. Fine if I was a two-bit merc or a scruffy nerf herder; not so fine as captain of a ship.

Black and white uniform that covered everything from neck to toe; complete with gloves. No Cerberus symbol, just an orange-yellow patch on either arm sporting the logo 'SR-2'. OK, _that _I can live with. I mean, if it's good enough for Dr. Chakwas, it's good enough for me.

Next: sweeping the room. I would have done so even if EDI hadn't freely admitted that there were bugs planted everywhere. After a bit of fiddling, I drained the aquarium and starting sweeping my quarters with a fine-toothed comb. Or omni-tool. Whatever.

While I was searching, I thought over the crew of the Normandy. They were pretty nice, all things considered. Not at all irrational. Or xenophobic. Heck, there were only one or two chest-thumping pro-human nuts in the whole bunch, and even they weren't that extreme. On the whole, every man and woman on this ship just wanted to do something—_anything_—to help humanity, and were sick and tired of the people in charge who were sitting on their asses instead of doing their job. So did this mean I could grow to respect them? Even get along with them? Or was this all one big elaborate trap to lure me into a Cerberus kumbaya fest?

I hate being paranoid. It'd be much easier if I could just blissfully take everything at face value. Then I wouldn't have to do stuff like crawl around on my hands and knees.

After two hours, I came up with thirty-eight bugs. No, I'm not telling you where they all were or how I found them. Most I destroyed on the spot. I only kept one intact, mostly because it was extremely well-designed and it seemed a shame to scrap something of such superior craftsmanship.

I may have re-routed the signal to the exterior vid-cam outside the waste chute, though. Hee, hee.

With forty-six minutes to go, I sat down and accessed my computer console. It didn't take long to determine that the number of unread messages in my e-mail account was suspiciously low, considering how long I'd been out. I know the galaxy has done wonders with spam filters, but you'd be surprised what gets through. After a bit of digging, I figured out the answer: Kelly had priority access to my account.

You'd think I'd be pissed. Well I was, but not as much as you'd think. I always secured classified data on my personal computer rather than let it float around in my e-mail account. That computer was on the original Normandy, and we all know what happened to her. Anything in my e-mail was either public domain or had such minimal classification that any idiot could grab it. Besides, I wasn't looking forward to sifting through two years of spam.

Still, now that I was back on the job, I couldn't let the status quo stand. I cracked my knuckles and starting working some computer magic. Soon enough, I'd modified Kelly's access so she could detect when I got new messages, but not read who the sender was or what the contents were.

I also had a chance to check my financial accounts. The contents of my 'official' accounts were transferred to my mother, as per my will. A couple of my 'unofficial' accounts had been seized by various financial authorities as 'illegal proceeds of crime' or some nonsense.

It wasn't until I got to my largest unofficial account that I noticed something, well, hinky. **(5)** It looked like most of the money had been converted to various precious metals. Specifically; palladium, platinum, iridium and element zero. It looked like Cerberus had anticipated that I might want to do some upgrading at some point, and this would be a good start to providing the raw materials required. The remainder of that account, all 377,800 credits, had been left for any purchases I might want to make.

Before I logged off, my computer told me I had a new message. From Councillor Anderson:

_On the off chance that the rumours are true and you actually are alive, I need you to come and talk to me on the Citadel. A lot has changed in the last two years. You put me on the Council, and it's only fair that you be allowed to speak for yourself about what we've been hearing._

Why did I have the feeling that TIMmy had something to with what TPTB—and Anderson—had been hearing? **(6)** That, along with the presumption that they could buy my loyalty with toys—not that I didn't want them, but it's the principle of the thing—fuelled a sudden desire for payback. Or a tweak on the nose.

* * *

><p>After hacking the PA system and uploading something, I returned to the command deck, I headed straight for the galaxy map and ordered Joker to set a course for the Citadel. I had three reasons for doing so.<p>

One: it turned out that Cerberus had already hired a squad mate—so I wouldn't have to do a song-and-dance to recruit her—and she was waiting for us on the Citadel.

Two: the Citadel shops were bound to have something I could use.

Three: seeing my old CO beat following TIMmy's 'suggestions' any day.

No sooner had I given the order than an old Earth song started playing through the speakers—right on cue. I pretended to look just as surprised as everyone else:

"_Well you can tell by the way I use my walk,  
><em>_I'm a woman's man no time to talk.  
><em>_Music loud and women warm,  
><em>_I've been kicked around, since I was born._

"_And now it's all right, it's okay,  
><em>_And you may look the other way.  
><em>_We can try to understand  
><em>_The New York Times' effect on man._

"_Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,  
><em>_You're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.  
><em>_Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin'  
><em>_Stayin' alive, stayin' alive._

"_Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.  
><em>_Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' ..."_ **(7)**

* * *

><p><em>(1): Shepard does not indicate whether this is a reference to one of the several real-life waterborne vessels that bore that name during the 18<em>_th__, 19__th__ and 20__th__ centuries or the various fictional starships that bore that name in the Star Trek fictional universe._

_(2): The Normandy SR-2 started with a permanent crew of twenty-four, a fraction of the three hundred or so crew members that are normally found onboard a cruiser. This is likely due to the fact that the new Normandy was not a true cruiser, as well as the use of the artificial intelligence EDI to compensate for the reduced manpower available. _

_(3): This more than any other evidence convinced me that the old Shepard was back, rather than some ersatz Cerberus copy._

_(4): Alliance marines nicknamed this vehicle the 'Combat Cockroach' for its durability and appearance. They also called it a 'three-million-credit coffin' for the reasons that Shepard illustrates._

_(5): Far be it for me to wonder how many 'unofficial' accounts Shepard had._

_(6): I cannot deny that Shepard's distinction reminds me of the extent to which I was shut out from deliberating on galactic affairs with the rest of the Council, despite my appointment as human councillor. Considering the sentiments behind Shepard's designation of 'The Powers That Be' for the original members of the Council, though, I suppose I should be grateful. _

_(7): 'Stayin' Alive,' a song released by a human group called the Bee Gees in the late 1970s. _


	5. From Hero to Pariah

**Chapter 5: From Hero to Pariah**

As the Normandy docked at the Citadel, I noted that it looked exactly the same as it did two years ago. You'd never know it had suffered an attack by Sovereign, Saren and the geth. Not too surprising: appearances mean everything sometimes, and TPTB would be sure to make it look like things were back to normal.

The first sign that things had changed was the fact that you couldn't just stroll from your ship, go down the elevator and struggle your way through C-Sec customs. Now, every berth had a small contragravity speeder, like the ones you see buzzing above any metropolis, which would take you to a designated C-Sec customs site. I guess it streamlined things somewhat. Only problem was, the damn thing could only seat four people. It was fine for now—the only people accompanying me on this trip would be Miranda and Jacob—but if my posse got any larger, I might have some problems.

I mentioned this to Miranda while I flew the aircar over to C-Sec customs. **(1)**

"For a small fee, you can order additional aircars to be stationed at your berth," she informed me. "I could have arranged it beforehand if you'd told me."

"Why are we here anyway?" Jacob asked.

"I got a message from Councillor Anderson just before we were ready for takeoff, requesting a private meeting," I replied. "Figured it was worth a detour before we go to Omega."

I didn't say much for the remainder of the trip, mostly because I was busy looking at all the neon lights scattered throughout Zakera Ward, the Ward we had docked at. I remembered someone saying that the lights were always on as there was no artificial day-night cycle down here, unlike the Presidium. Still, there weren't as many lights twinkling away as I recalled. Come to think of it, there was an awful lot of damage throughout the Ward that had yet to be repaired. Clearly the Council hadn't gotten around to fixing everything—just the areas they regarded as important. That prompted me to double-check the seals on the aircar—back in the day, the Wards didn't maintain breathable atmosphere above seven metres or so. Who knows whether that was still the case or not.

The seals were intact though, and we made it to C-Sec Customs without any problems. Exiting the aircar, I was struck by how much colour there was. The old C-Sec Academy and its Customs area had always struck me by its uniform blue colour, which was exacerbated by the pervasive blue lighting. Here I saw purples and yellows and oranges… pretty much every colour of the rainbow. Well, a technicolour rainbow. And there were a lot of C-Sec officers milling around. A lot more than I remembered from two years ago.

There was a nearby news terminal which I quickly moved to check out. Always good to get some news that _wasn't _filtered through Cerberus firewalls.

"_...Shepard Memorial Plaza on Elysium was voted this year's hottest wedding destination. Under Admiral Hackett's orders, money raised from wedding fees goes to funds for Alliance veterans."_

Oh for crying out loud. Not again. And they named a plaza after me? Beats the giant statue they were planning to erect but _still_. I guess it wasn't all bad. I mean, at least some good's coming out of this hero crap.

My musings were interrupted when someone called out "Commander Shepard. Enter the password and receive a free gift."

Looking around, I saw one of those advertising terminals. Standard issue—tall, cylindrical, wrap-around screen projecting some advertisement. Iris scanners to ID you so the VI can personalize the advertisement, all the better to sucker you into parting with your hard-earned creds. Never mind the Big Brother issues.

This particular terminal was currently showing nothing but static. As I watched, though, a picture of a woman appeared. The angle was such that we could only see her shoulder and her head. A hood obscured the top of her face in a swath of shadow. The only notable feature we could see was a small purple strip of makeup or something extending downwards from the centre of her lower lip. This must be the ad terminal TIMmy mentioned.

I should explain that.

According to TIMmy's e-mail, he had hired some master thief, skilled infiltrator, hacker and information specialist extraordinaire to help me out. No small feat, considering that she'd been 'acquiring' stuff across the galaxy without ever getting caught. Anyways, to pick up this recruit, I was supposed to go to some ad terminal in the Zakera Ward and input a password.

Just for the hell of it, I decided to just stand there like an idiot and see how many canned phrases this VI had installed.

"_Got problems with collectors? Try Kasumi's credit services!"_

Wordplay on 'collectors.' Cute.

"_Commander Shepard. We have the finest companions waiting for you. Perhaps something petite, smart and Japanese would be your style?"_

No comment.

"_Just enter your password for a fabulous prize package worth millions of credits!" _

Okay. Bored now. I walked towards the terminal. The motion sensors must have sensed my approach, as the woman appeared again.

"_Please tell me your password, Commander Shepard."_

"Silence is golden," I said.

"_Good to finally meet you, Commander Shepard,"_ the woman replied. _"Kasumi Goto. I'm a fan."_

Voice held a bit too much personality for a VI, especially one with the same name as my recruit. Either this was a custom job, or I was talking to the recruit herself. Masking a real-time transmission as an advertisement. Nice.

"What's with the password and the sneaking around?" I asked. "Are you in trouble or something?"

"_I'm the best thief in the business, not the most famous. Need to watch my step to keep it that way."_

Fair enough. Smart, too.

"_I also needed to make sure all this was legit,"_ Kasumi added. _"And I have no doubts now—you're the real Commander Shepard."_

"What makes you so sure?" I wondered.

"_There's a certain… aura about you. Like you've seen things no one else has. Even without knowing what you looked like, I knew it was you."_

If only she knew. "Has Cerberus filled you in on the mission?"

"_Honestly, I'm shocked they didn't come to see me sooner,"_ Kasumi admitted. _"My fault for being hard to find, I guess."_

"What brought you to them in the first place?"

"_That's a bit of a story. Short version: they were looking for me, so I trailed them to find out why. Turns out they were looking for someone to join you on an important mission… and were offering a serious signing bonus. I had a thing I needed help with, so I made them a deal. And here we are."_

"I assume this deal is something I should know about," I said dryly.

"_Yeah, I guess it slipped their minds," _Kasumi confirmed. _"I'm looking for my old partner's greybox. A man named Donovan Hock took it, and I'm planning to get it back."_

As she talked, I felt a tingling at the back of my neck. Not quite like the previous times, where my life was about to face sudden peril. Still, my gut was apparently trying to tell me something. I decided to stall for time, hoping I could figure out what that something was. "Got any more details on this lil' heist of yours?"

"_Not here, Shepard,"_ Kasumi said. _"You'll get a briefing when the time comes. I need time to nail down the details anyway. I've taken the liberty of getting you some evening wear, though. You'll want to look presentable." _

Still hadn't figured out what the tingling was all about, though I had the strangest feeling. Like someone was watching me. "What can you tell me about Donovan Hock?"

"_Mr. Hock is a well-respected 'businessman.' Arms dealer, murderer, generally not a great guy,"_ she replied cheerfully. _"His mansion's famous for being hard to crack. But I have a way in, and I think you're going to love it."_

We'll see. I definitely felt like I was being watched. Question was, where? The image of the ad terminal showed someone who was talking, but not moving. Nobody around me fit that description. It was possible that she was using a VI program to provide an artificial image while subbing in her own voice, but somehow I didn't think so.

"I doubt Hock's the kind of guy who takes kindly to people sneaking into his house," I said in a deadpan voice.

"_I always expect trouble. That's why you're here."_

"Now, about this 'greybox.' What _is _that, exactly? I assume it's some kind of hardware."

"_It's a neural implant, illegal in most places."_ To demonstrate, she tapped the side of her head. A blue holographic visor appeared over her eyes. _"Stores memories, thoughts… secret codes, illicit information. __**(2)**__ This one in particular belonged to my partner, Keiji Okuda. We worked together for a long time, before Hock killed him."_

"Tell me about this former partner of yours," I prompted.

"_Keiji was the best hacker and entryman I've ever known."_ She bowed her head for a moment before continuing. _"Unfortunately, he slipped up and made himself infamous. He stole something he shouldn't. He warned me it was bad, something that could spark interstellar war if it got out. That information… got him killed."_

For a moment, the sound in the transmission changed. Just for a brief moment, but it was enough for me to get a tentative idea of where Kasumi was. I just needed to keep her talking for a little while longer… "What could he have found that's so bad?"

"_He wouldn't say what it was, just that it was dangerous. He said if it got out, humanity would be in trouble. He encrypted it, wrapped it up in his own memories. To decode the information, you have to sift through all the time we spent together. Now those memories are all that's left of him."_

At that point, I figured out two things. One—this former partner meant a lot to her. Possibly beyond mere professionalism. Second—I had a fix on her position.

"I can understand why you'd want to get it back," I said sympathetically, not letting on that I knew.

"_Getting it back will be easier with your help, Shepard."_

"Well, if that's what Cerberus promised you, we'll get it done," I pronounced.

"_It'll be fun,"_ she replied lightly. _"And if we're lucky, you won't even have to draw your gun."_

The terminal descended into the floor. Kasumi's voice rang out, unencumbered by speakers. "We should probably wrap this up. You look pretty silly talking to an advertisement."

I turned around and looked up at the catwalk above us. Sure enough, Kasumi was standing there. My companions followed my gaze. Jacob looked shocked. Miranda just nodded—her enhanced hearing probably told her where Kasumi was lurking.

"Funny," I smirked. "I thought making me look silly was all part of the plan."

"Busted," she grinned. She tilted to the side, putting some weight on her hip and cocking her head ever so slightly. "See you on the ship, Shepard." With that, she walked off.

* * *

><p>With that out of the way, we walked through the security cordon, which basically meant going through a corridor that connected the docking area with the rest of the level. Kinda like an airlock.<p>

As we reached the end of the corridor, a beam of light swept over us. It didn't do anything for Miranda or Jacob. Only when it hit me did a soft tone ring out.

"Obviously, security has tightened since you were last here," Miranda observed.

The turian tapped something on his console, tapped it again, and then activated his comm. "Shut it down," he said. He listened to the voice on the other end and frowned. "What? Do you seriously think... yeah, okay. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," he apologized. "Our scanners are picking up false readings. They seem to think you're, ah, dead."

"I was only 'mostly' dead," I joked. "Try finding that option on government paperwork."

The officer laughed politely. "We need to get that cleared up for you. Why don't you speak with my captain? He can reinstate you in our system. Just go through the airlock and take a right. You can't miss him."

The officer was right—we couldn't miss him. As soon as we turned, we saw the only C-Sec officer who could possibly be a captain. A middle-aged man with close-cropped grey hair sitting behind a desk, he was positively screaming of authority. "Yes?" he said automatically as he looked up.

He took one look at me, looked at his console, and allowed a slight twitch to jerk at his lips. "I see the problem already, Commander Shepard. My console says you're dead."

"That was fast, Captain..." I paused.

"Bailey," he answered in a gravelly voice.

"Captain Bailey," I repeated. "You're not worried that I'm some imposter pretending to be me?"

"We have the best screening equipment in the galaxy," he replied, sounding matter-of-fact rather than boastful. Those scanners can sample DNA from skin flakes. Hell, if you have unregistered gene mods, they can even figure those out."

So either Cerberus didn't do any tinkering when they were stuffing implants every which way or C-Sec was woefully behind the curve. But I couldn't worry about that right now. "Well your scanners sampled my DNA and matched it with my KIA status. Which is obviously out-of-date." I gestured over my shoulder. "Your sergeant said you could fix that for me."

"Usually you'd have to go through the Station Security Administration to reactivate your IDs. Then to Customs and Immigration to regain access to the Citadel itself. And probably a stop by the treasury." He paused before informing me "'Spending a year dead' is a popular tax dodge."

Paperwork. Oh. Joy.

Bailey must have seen the pained look on my face, 'cuz he raised his hands reassuringly. "But I can see you're a busy man." He leaned forward towards me and reached towards one of the buttons on his console. "So how about I just press this button right here, and we call it done?"

As much as I loved the sound of that, someone had to point out the obvious: "Couldn't one of us—or both of us—get into trouble for that?"

"There's no way to fool the DNA scanners in that tunnel," the captain replied. You're you. Why wait in long lines and fill out a mass of useless hardcopy paperwork to get to the same place? Only reason is because the Council says so."

He rolled his eyes. "They do everything by the book. They've had thousands of years to write it." Then he slammed the desk in frustration. "Sometimes things need to get done without a committee vote."

"You're not big on formalities, are you?" I smiled.

He didn't return my smile. "I'm with them right up until they keep people from doing their jobs."

Man after my own heart.

He entered a few commands into the computer—guess it took more than just one button—and then looked up. "There. I just saved you about nine days of running around."

I nodded my thanks.

"That said, you should head up to the Presidium and tell them you're still alive. The Council probably wants to talk to the one who saved their scaly asses."

Definitely a man after my own heart. I looked around for a helpful sign before giving up and turning back to Bailey. "What's the easiest way to get to the Presidium from down here?"

"Just head over to any of the rapid transit terminals and take a public shuttle."

Easy enough. "I'll do that. Having access to the Council and the Spectres' resources would be useful."

"Yeah," he grudgingly admitted. "The Council can get anything. Best thing about working C-Sec is that any equipment, information or money you need, you get. Anyway—something else you need?"

"Just curious," I shrugged. "Last time I was here, there were no human captains in C-Sec."

"C-Sec took a lot of casualties when the geth boarded the Presidium," Bailey explained. "The Special Response division was hard hit. They stopped turning their noses up at human resumes. They needed bodies in uniform, and we had the most experienced bodies."

"It looks like most of the damage from Sovereign's attack has been repaired," I said casually. It'd be interesting to see if Bailey bought the public line about the Battle of the Citadel being just a rogue Spectre/geth attack or whether he believed that a greater intelligence was behind it all.

Bailey didn't seem to react. Either he believed in the existence of the Reapers, or he just accepted that Saren's flagship was called Sovereign. "The Presidium was pretty shot up." Bailey scowled before sarcastically adding "Of course they fixed that first.

"All the wards got hit with debris when the ship exploded. Most of the damage was superficial, and the keepers got things restored fast. Tayseri Ward got the worst—a big chunk hit near the Dilinaga Concert Hall." He shook his head sadly. "They're _still _clearing wreckage and trying to get power restored."

"Well, Zakera Ward looks like it got back on its feet," I commented. "Tell me about this place."

"All the Wards are more or less multicultural, but the other four are dominated by asari, turians or salarians. In Zakera, we've got major enclaves of volus, elcor and hanar. There's also a human commercial zone at Shin Akiba. We've got a few krogan walking around... I think I saw a quarian the other day."

"Well, I've taken up enough of your time," I smiled. "I should be going."

"Sure thing," Bailey nodded. "If you need anything else, let me know."

* * *

><p>Just beyond C-Sec, I saw a news terminal spitting out random clips from Citadel NewsNet. And the anchor? Emily Wong, the reporter I'd helped out two years ago. Guess she made her way up in the galaxy since then.<p>

Ignoring the krogan behind me who was wishing he could eat one of the fish on the Presidium, and his companion who just wanted him to shut up, I listened to the story. _"The Systems Alliance 5__th__ Fleet has begun its planned tour of the Attican Traverse,"_ Emily was saying. _"The fleet, centred around the dreadnought Orizaba under Captain Hannah Shepard, will stop in various systems over the next three months. A turian spokesman for the Council noted that 'Since the Battle of the Citadel, the Alliance has played an increasing role in securing our frontiers.' He added that the 5__th__ Fleet's goodwill tour is a first step towards becoming a partner in turian peacekeeping patrols." _

Huh. Mom must've gotten promoted. Last I heard, she was XO on the Kiliminjaro. Now she was a captain on the flagship of the 5th Fleet. Go Mom.

I saw Avina, the friendly Citadel VI, hanging about. Feeling nostalgic all of a sudden, I went over to its terminal.

"_Welcome back, Shepard,"_ it greeted me. _"It has been two years, three months and seventeen days since the Citadel last welcomed you."_

What? No hours, minutes or seconds? I was almost disappointed.

"_This is the Zakera Ward transportation hub. Public shuttles and shopping are available through the C-Sec security cordon."_

"It looks like this place has recovered from Sovereign's attack," I commented.

"_Repair of the damage from the geth attack is ongoing. There is still extensive damage on Tayseri Ward."_

"Geth?" I asked. "It was Sovereign who led the attack. A Reaper."

"_I have no information on a 'Reaper,'"_ Avina told me. _"References to the term exist in some para-historical theories on galactic extinction cycles."_

"They've suppressed information about the Reapers," Miranda said. "Far easier to blame the geth, a known enemy."

No kidding.

"Besides, going around and talking about 'Reapers' might cause a panic," Kasumi said brightly.

Miranda and Jacob jumped. I didn't, but I came very close to doing so. Turning around, we saw Kasumi standing in front of us. She waved a hello.

"What—but you... huh..." Jacob sputtered.

I took over before Jacob could start embarrassing himself. "Weren't you going to put your stuff on the ship?"

"Oh, I already smuggled my stuff onboard," she replied cheerfully. "Set up shop in the port observation lounge. Hope you don't mind. Didn't look like anyone was using it, anyways. And it had a nice view."

"You did all that," Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Surveillance should have caught you."

"Yeah, there was an awful lot of cameras and bugs," Kasumi admitted. "I got past most of them, but I'm sure they picked me up when I started unpacking. Anyway, I got bored so I thought I'd catch up with you guys. What's up?"

I looked at Avina, shrugged, and then turned away. "I'm going to meet up with Councillor Anderson. After that, might as well check out the shops while we're here. See if there's anything worth getting."

"The rest of us can look through the shops while you're at your meeting," Miranda suggested. "That way, you can shop as efficiently as possible."

"I was just about to say that," I approved. "Well, we all have our assignments now. Let's get to it."

"Right," Miranda said.

"Sure thing," Kasumi chirped.

Jacob saluted.

* * *

><p>It turned out that Anderson's office was Udina's old office, over in the Embassy section of the Presidium. I couldn't help but wait outside the doors and listen in, recalling how lousy the soundproofing was. Turns out that hadn't changed one bit.<p>

"_This meeting would be more productive if Udina was to join us,"_ I heard the asari councillor say.

"My advisor is unavailable," Anderson replied. "As Councillor, I represent the voice of humanity and the Alliance."

He shouldn't have had to say that. Either the collective intelligence of TPTB had plummeted, in which case the galaxy was screwed, or they were trying to belittle the legitimacy and relevance of Anderson's position. **(3)**

"Shepard will be here any—"

I took this moment to step in. Seemed like good timing.

"Oh, Commander," Anderson smiled. "We were just talking about you."

Stifling the reflex to salute him in the nick of time, I offered a warm smile of my own and shook his hand. "It's been a long time, Anderson. I hope the last couple years have treated you right."

"There's been some rough spots," he admitted. In a softer voice, he added "It's good to have you back."

"_We've heard many rumours surrounding your unexpected return,"_ the salarian councillor butted in. _"Some of them are... unsettling."_

And why did I think these rumours had less to do with the Council's intelligence-gathering capacity and more to do with 'accidental' leaks from Cerberus?

"_We called this meeting so you could explain your actions, Shepard. We owe you that much. After all, you saved our lives in the battle against Saren and his geth." _

No good deed goes unpunished, huh? "The only action I've taken so far was to investigate the abductions of human colonists out in the Terminus Systems," I said, deciding to stick to the truth as much as possible without bringing up my unasked-for Cerberus pals. "So far, I've identified the kidnappers as the Collectors. Worse, there are indications that they're working for the Reapers."

"_The Terminus Systems are beyond our jurisdiction,"_ the turian councillor sniffed. _"Your colonies knew this when they left Council Space."_

As much as I hated the callousness behind his remarks, he had a point. Many human colonies were deliberately set up because they wanted to get away from Council authority for one reason or another. Of course, they conveniently forgot that every time they actually needed help, howling in outrage that they were 'abandoned' by the Council and the Alliance.

"You're missing the important part, Councillor," Anderson said. "The Reapers _are_ involved."

"_Ah yes. _Reapers_,"_ the turian councillor said sarcastically, emphasizing the last word in quotation marks with his talons. _"The immortal race of sentient starships allegedly waiting in dark space." He waved me off with his hand. "We have dismissed that claim." _

Same old head-in-the-sand mentality. Go figure.

Anderson turned to face me. "Shepard, no one else encountered the hologram on Ilos that told you the truth about the Reapers. Only you and your crew ever spoke with Sovereign. I believe you, but without evidence from another source, the others think Saren was behind the geth attacks."

I turned to face the rest of the Council. "Saren was an organic," I pointed out. "The geth would never accept him as their leader. They only followed them because he was Sovereign's agent."

"_Saren was a compelling and charismatic individual,"_ the asari councillor rebutted. "_He convinced the geth the Reapers were real... just as he convinced you." _

"_It was part of his plan to attack the Citadel,"_ the turian councillor snapped. "_The Reapers are just a myth. One you insist on perpetuating."_

"_We believe that you believe it, but that doesn't make it true,"_ the asari councillor concluded.

"Why don't you go back to Ilos and talk to Vigil?" I tried next. "Or, heck, just look at what's left of Sovereign—it's obvious the technology is more advanced than ours!"

"_The hologram on Ilos is no longer functional and we have found nothing to suggest that Sovereign was _not_ a geth creation,"_ the salarian councillor informed me.

"_The geth are capable of remarkable technological achievements,"_ the asari councillor pointed out. _"This is probably why Saren recruited them."_

"_This Reaper theory proves just how fragile your mental state is," _the turian councillor sneered. _"You have been manipulated—by Cerberus and, before them, by Saren."_

"With all due respect, no one was or has been manipulating me," I said politely. "I have always strived to serve and protect the greater good throughout the galaxy. Remember, I kept Saren from conquering the Citadel. I recommended that the Alliance send its fleet in to save this Council and ensure a more stable leadership in the aftermath, despite the sacrifice of over two thousand human lives."

"_We are in a difficult position, Shepard,"_ the asari councillor replied. _"You are working for Cerberus—an avowed enemy of the Council. This is treason, a capital offense."_

"That's too far," Anderson burst out furiously, before I could respond. "Shepard is a _hero_. I'm on this Council, too, and I won't let this whitewash continue."

"Regarding whatever rumours you may have heard, and your comments about my current affiliations," I added "you might be interested to know that none of this was my idea. I didn't ask Cerberus to find my body after the Normandy was destroyed. They did that on their own. I didn't ask them to bring me back from the dead. They did that on their own. I didn't ask for them to provide weapons, backup, even a crew. _They did that on their own_.

"I came here as soon as I could. The _only_ thing I did beforehand was to investigate Freedom's Progress for any clues as to where all the colonists went. Why? Because two years ago, I was authorized 'to act as I saw fit,' to do whatever is necessary to identify and stop threats to the Citadel races as its first and last line of defence."

"And," I added firmly, "because it's the right thing to do."

"_Maybe there is a compromise,"_ the asari councillor suggested. _"Not a public acknowledgement, given your ties, but something to show peripheral support."_

Why did I have a feeling this was their plan all along?

"_Shepard, if you keep a low profile and restrict your operations to the Terminus Systems, the Council is willing to offer you reinstatement as a Spectre."_

Oh yeah. Definitely part of their plan. "What does that mean?" I asked. "Will I need to start filing reports?"

"_That won't be necessary,"_ the salarian councillor hastily added. _"This is a show of good faith on our part." _

"_We cannot become involved in an investigation regarding the missing colonies in the Terminus Systems,"_ the asari councillor said. _"But Spectre reinstatement shows our support of you personally."_

Right. They support me. They just want me to go far, far away where they never have to see or hear from me again. And they were generous enough to give me Spectre authority to take to a place where Spectre authority, not to mention Council authority, was not recognized. Still, I guess it was better than nothing.

I glanced at Anderson, who subtly nodded at me. "I accept your offer," I finally said. "It's good to have the Council on my side."

See? I can bull-shit, too.

"_Good luck with your investigation, Shepard,"_ the asari councillor concluded. _"We hope for a quick resolution... and a quick end to your relationship with Cerberus."_ She reached down and tapped a control panel, cutting the transmission.

"Well," Anderson breathed a sigh of relief. "That went better than I expected." He looked at me sharply. "You realize the Council's offer is just symbolic. They won't actually do anything."

"I might have picked up on that," I replied casually. "What with the conditions of my reinstatement, the lack of authority I'd have out in the Terminus Systems, and their desire to stay completely in the dark regarding my investigation."

Anderson smiled.

"Still," I shrugged. "Even if they don't help, I might as well stay on good terms."

"True enough," Anderson agreed. "Don't worry about the Council or the Alliance. I'll find some way to keep them off your back. Shouldn't be too hard as long as you keep to the Terminus Systems."

At that point, the doors hissed open. A certain... individual walked in.

"Anderson, we need to talk about..." Udina stopped and stared at me. "Shepard? What are you doing here?"

"Stopped by to see how Anderson was doing," I evaded.

"You don't have to cover for me," Anderson interjected. "I invited Shepard here to speak with the Council. We just finished our meeting."

To say Udina was flabbergasted would be an understatement. "You _what_? Councillor, do the words 'political shit-storm' mean anything to you?"

"You can relax—everything went fine," I butted in. "The Council even reinstated my Spectre status. They're just happy I'm staying out in the Terminus Systems."

As I'd expected, that calmed him down somewhat. "Yes..." he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "I could see how that arrangement works best for both sides." He turned to Anderson. "But you really shouldn't have taken a step like this without consulting with me first, Councillor."

"I don't answer to you, Udina," Anderson replied bluntly. "Why don't you go to your office and think about that for a while?"

I really wish I had a vid-cam built into my hardsuit so I could take a picture of the look on Udina's face. "Of course, Councillor," he said silkily. "Good day to both of you."

Anderson waited until Udina left before turning towards me. "Sorry about that. Udina's never gotten over the fact that I got the Council position instead of him. Sometimes I need to put him in his place."

I was tempted to say that I enjoyed seeing Udina get spanked, but it probably wouldn't have been professional. Instead, I said "Udina's just doing his job."

"True enough," Anderson agreed. He headed for the balcony, with me close on his heels, and leaned on the railing. "He's got his uses. If you want something done on the Citadel, he knows who can make it happen. Plus, he's always happy to attend all those formal diplomatic functions I can't be bothered with."

I leaned on the railing next to Anderson. "How have the last couple years treated you?"

He pushed himself off the railing and started pacing back and forth. "Serving on the Council isn't how I planned to spend my twilight years," he admitted. "Sometimes it feels like I'm just beating my head against a wall."

"Knowing the truth about Sovereign is brutal," he said, propping himself against the railing again. "It's nightmare stuff. I can't blame others for not wanting to believe it. But I know how important it is, so I keep trying. Fighting the good fight, right?"

"You know, you could always just blow off Udina and the Council," I suggested, waving them off with my hand. "Join my crew and help me stop the Collectors. Beat someone else's head against the wall for a change."

He laughed. "I'm too old to go racing across the galaxy. Much as I complain, I've got an important job to do here. The front line—that's got to be yours."

"I'm surprised no one can tell Sovereign isn't geth technology," I sighed. "Didn't they examine the wreckage?"

"We don't have much to look at," Anderson replied. "Pieces of it rained all over the station. It was chaos, with who knows how many species combing the Wards for their dead. We secured as much of it as we could, but between the keepers and a whole lot of unauthorized salvage, there's no way to account for even half of that thing. Another reason why they don't want to acknowledge what Sovereign was."

"How long did it take to get this place back up to speed after the battle anyways?" I asked.

"Still counting," Anderson admitted. "The main areas of commerce and the most populated Wards are complete, but estimates for total restoration are sitting around five years."

"The keepers always surprise us, though," he added, shaking his head in admiration. "It's like... our repairs are annoying. We'll put up an ugly new bulkhead, and in a few days they've made it seamless. We've never really thought of them as heavy lifters, and I have no idea where they get the resources, but we'd never get done without them."

"They're definitely something else," I agreed. "How are things going with the geth? Last I knew, we were still fighting holdouts."

"We still are, here and there, but they are increasingly disorganized," Anderson replied. "It's long since stopped being called a war. More like cleanup. Not that you can ever discount them, but we haven't had serious casualties for months. A civilian ship will spot an enclave and we send in a squad to clear it. They're not quite the bogeymen they used to be."

"What happened to Staff Lieutenant Alenko after the Normandy was destroyed?"

Anderson hesitated for a moment. "Staff Commander Alenko is still with the Alliance, but he's working on a special mission," he said finally. "It's classified. I can't say any more. Not while you're working with Cerberus. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I said, ignoring the lump in my throat. Made sense—I'd have done the same in his shoes. Still hurt, though. **(4) **

The implications of Kaidan's promotion suddenly struck me—he was actually my superior now. Did that mean I had to salute him now? Weird.

"Hey, is there a spare room I could borrow for a while?" I asked on the spur of the moment.

Anderson looked at me blankly.

"I'd like to get out of this hardsuit and take a good look at it," I explained. "Maybe my omni-tool and weapons too, while I'm at it. Just to see that there aren't any bugs or spyware stuck inside."

Anderson smiled. "There aren't any, I'm afraid, but you can work here. I'm not expecting anyone for the rest of the day."

"Thanks," I nodded. I went over to a corner and took my hardsuit apart. You'd think I'd be embarrassed to strip in front of my former CO. Fact is, that happens all the time in the Alliance. Superior officers and subordinates, men and women. You get used to that sort of thing pretty quickly. Plus, it's not as if I was stark naked underneath.

I spent the next hour running every sort of visual check, test and diagnostic I could think of. Anderson lent me a whole suite of programs and subroutines to use, which added another ninety minutes. In the end, I came up with... nothing. That made sense—I'd been running a ton of subroutines ever since I got them, and I'd have noticed if there was anything extra lurking about. The lag time alone would have sent up red flags. Still, it was nice to get a confirmation.

I handed the programs back to Anderson. He took them, sifted through them for a minute, and then handed a couple back on an OSD. "These counter-surveillance programs were released to the civilian sector a few months ago."

"Because the Council and the various military organizations got updated versions," I guessed.

"Versions that are light-years ahead of the ones I'm giving you," Anderson confirmed. "These ones are still recent enough that Cerberus might not have developed countermeasures yet, but it won't cause us any problems if they do."

"Thanks," I said gratefully. "For everything." I paused for a moment before adding "I better go."

"Of course, Shepard," Anderson nodded. "I wish I could do more to help you, but if you ever want to talk, I'll be here. Just... do me a favour and be careful. You can't trust Cerberus."

You don't say.

* * *

><p>I contacted Miranda when I left and met her, Jacob and Kasumi in Zakera Ward about half an hour later.<p>

"I trust you had a productive meeting?" Miranda said.

"Kinda," I shrugged. "Got reinstated as a Spectre."

"Promising," Miranda nodded. "That sort of authority could come in handy."

"But the Council wants me to stay in the Terminus Systems," I dropped the other foot.

Jacob snorted. "Well that's useful."

"Better than nothing," I said.

"Besides, it's not as if they provided any more help when you were chasing after Saren," Miranda added.

"Unless you count the tip about Virmire," I said.

"True."

"So, what did you guys find out while I was stuck up on the Presidium?" I asked.

"We can do all our shopping right here," Kasumi replied. "Anything the other Wards have, Zakera Ward has too. And there are only four locations that have anything worth buying."

"Three," Jacob corrected.

"Four if Shepard wants model ships or fish," Miranda said. "That's over at Citadel Souvenirs. Meanwhile, there's Rodam Expeditions for weapon mods, Saronis Applications for tech upgrades and Sirta Foundation for medical-related hardsuit enhancements."

"They're all really expensive, though," Kasumi warned. "Haven't seen prices this high since Ilium."

"We can afford it. Let's go shopping," I said. Then I paused. "Never thought I'd say that."

Saronis Applications was our first stop, mainly because we were already outside it. A salarian was working behind the counter.

"Welcome to Saronis Applications," he started. "Can I interest you—ah! Shepard!"

"Do I know you?" I asked blankly.

"No, but I know you," the salarian said. "Even a senile hanar would remember the human who fought off the geth! I thought you were dead!"

"Yeah, I've been getting that a lot," I admitted.

"Please look around the store. It's a pleasure to have you here."

I obliged, scrolling through the kiosk. There were only two items worth buying. Both of which were quite expensive.

An inkling of an idea sparked to life inside my noggin. "You know... sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I won't bore you with my full name," the salarian said. "Call me Marab. Everyone else does."

Thank goodness. Salarian names are amazingly long, what with their need to explain exactly where they came from. "Marab," I nodded. "I'd like to buy something."

"Oh, it's all automated these days." Marab pointed over to a kiosk on my right. "There's a catalogue interface over there."

"If everything's automated, why are you here?" I asked, scratching my head.

"Oh, you know. Customer service. Sweeping out the store." Marab grinned. "Carefully explaining things to the technologically illiterate. It's amazing how many people think light moves faster through expensive fibre-optic cables than it does through cheap ones."

I shook my head. Boy have I heard _that _one before. "Or they think their VI is an AI just because it responds to their questions."

Marab sighed. "It's a shame so few understand their own equipment. Besides the most obvious 'point and go' nav interfaces, anyway."

"You wouldn't believe how often I hear, 'Why's the ship turning around? We're only halfway there!'" I joked. **(5)** Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my companions roll their eyes in sympathy.

"Ha! Oh, I would," Marab laughed.

"You know, I use quite a lot of software in my line of work. And I like your products," I said. "Any interest in an endorsement from the human who defeated Saren?"

"I'd be thrilled!" Marab grinned for a moment. Then he frowned as something occurred to him. "But I don't think I could afford to pay you for it."

"Don't worry about it," I assured him. "What if we just work out a discount?"

"Absolutely!" Marab pulled up a program on his console. "Just speak into my console here."

I leaned down. "I'm Commander Shepard," I spoke clearly, "and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."

"That will be splendid," Marab said excitedly. "I can edit that and have it working right away. Thank you so much!"

I pretty much did the same thing for every other shop, getting discounts that I quickly used to buy equipment for cheaper prices. By the end, they were all cheerfully playing my advertisement over their speakers:

"_I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."_

"_I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."_

"_I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."_

"_I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."_

Yes, I sold out and went commercial. The things I do to save the galaxy.

* * *

><p>Believe or not, I didn't have a bad time shopping. It's amazing how good it feels to go into a store and know you can actually afford to buy something, instead of feeling like some poor shmuck who doesn't deserve to step foot inside 'cause he doesn't have two credits to rub together.<p>

The only downside came when I bumped into a certain reporter on Level 28.

"Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News," she greeted me, holding out a hand.

Rather than shake it, I just crossed my arms and stared at her.

She must have thought I'd forgotten her. "I interviewed you two years ago, when you first became a Spectre? You presented your case very well on camera."

"No thanks to your efforts to make me look like I was selling out humanity to the Council," I said. "You trying to do another smear job on me?"

"Now, Shepard—you may object to my methods, but we're on the same side," al-Jilani said.

Bullshit.

"You're back, you're news. I just want to give your story its due."

Right. Still, I let her start up her camera drone. If I could beat her once, I could do so again.

"Sources claim you were at the heart of the Presidium during the Battle of the Citadel. It's fair to say the course of the battle hinged on your words. If true, you told Admiral Hackett to assist the Destiny Ascension, costing hundreds of human lives and securing the continued dominance of the Citadel Council."

She hadn't changed a bit. This time, though, I didn't need to waste as much time before coming up with a way to shut her up. And make her look bad in the process. "The turians lost twenty cruisers," I said. "Figure each had a crew of around three hundred. The Ascension—the asari dreadnought we saved—had a crew of nearly ten thousand, in addition to the Citadel Council."

"But surely the _human _cost—" al-Jilani tried.

I interrupted before she could waste any more of my time. "The Alliance lost eight cruisers. Shenyang. Emden. Jakarta. Cairo. Seoul. Cape Town. Warsaw. Madrid. Almost two thousand four hundred brave men and women sacrificed their lives for the good of the Council and the Citadel races. And yes, I remember them all. Everyone in the 5th Fleet is a hero. The Alliance owes them all medals. The Council owes them all a lot more than that."

I gave her a disgusted look before concluding "And so do you."

As we walked away, I heard her conclude the interview: "Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, hero of the Battle of the Citadel." Then she started talking to someone. "Check vid. We get it? Great, bull-rushed on my own show."

* * *

><p>Like I said, it wasn't all bad. While I was on that level, I bought a whole slew of weapons upgrades and a couple bottles of Serrice Ice brandy. I even had a chance to talk to one of the Presidium groundskeepers.<p>

"Do you know if there are fish in the lakes on the Presidium?" I asked at one point.

"I get that question a lot," he laughed. "I think it's right behind 'Where's the restroom?' Those are reservoirs. The Presidium's own supply, independent from the water storage tanks in the Wards."

Of course. Snobs.

"The only place I know of on the station to get a live fish is Deleia Sanassi's gift shop, Citadel Souvenirs."

"Funny," I scratched my head. "I could have sworn I saw fish there two years ago."

He groaned. "Yeah, some animal rights activist dumped them in there. Major pain in the ass. I mean, we purify it so the glass of water you pour for yourself isn't the same stuff that tourists throw litter in. But we had to take extra precautions after that stunt to make sure no bacteria got left behind."

"Bacteria could be a problem," I noted mildly.

The groundskeeper snorted. "Tell me about it. For example, if some salarian or human bacteria got in, and a turian or quarian drinks it—"

"Ooh boy. Allergic reaction or instant death," I winced.

"Exactly," he said. "Everything would be so much simpler if we all had the same DNA. But noooo, the universe loves diversity."

I should probably explain why I went out of my way to ask that question. Remember, that pair of krogan I mentioned outside C-Sec, one of whom was dying for a fish? I figured I'd help them out before one of them went nuts.

"What do you want?" the hungry one snarled when I approached.

"Just wondering why you're so interested in fish from the Presidium," I shrugged.

A dreamy look spread over his face. "It's so decadent," he moaned. "Eating a fish from the Presidium would be like screwing Sha'ira."

Ah yes. Sha'ira the Consort. High-priced asari renowned for dispensing sage advice, offering wise insights and... 'relieving stress' for clients who didn't mind making reservations months in advance.

The krogan's friend made a face. "Ugh. Asari are so... squishy. Where are you supposed to get a decent grip?"

I never thought of it that way, but what do I know? To each their own and all that. "I talked to one of the Presidium groundskeepers. He said there aren't any fish in the lakes."

"What?" the hungry krogan asked in a stunned voice.

"I told you, Kargesh," the other krogan said, shoving him.

"But... Rukar..." Kargesh started before his shoulders sagged. "Why have all that water if you're not going to store something to _eat_ in it?" he asked morosely. "I don't understand aliens at all."

"Thanks for telling him," Rukar said to me. "It's all he talked about all damn day."

As we walked away, we could hear the two of them discussing my revelation. "This is depressing," Kargesh said sadly.

"How about we find a turian and beat the crap out of him?" Rukar suggested. "That always makes you feel better."

* * *

><p>Before I left, I dropped by Zakera Cafe. I picked up a few thriller novels by some author named Drew Karpyshyn and 500 credits worth of high-quality ingredients for Gardner.<p>

While I was picking out the food, I caught a couple news clips. Destiny Ascension finishing some big tour. Relief ships mobilizing to help out Freedom's Progress, though there were questions as to whether there was anybody left to help. Oh, and another story about Mom.

Apparently she could've made admiral, but she turned it down to remain captain of the Orizaba. According to the news, she considered the offered promotion a 'political ploy,' and said she could best honour my legacy by captaining a starship.

That's my mom. Which reminded me—I should probably contact her at some point. Let her know I was back. Mind you, she'd probably go from 'Are you all right?' to 'Why didn't you call?' to 'So have you met anyone yet?' to 'Even with the genetic enhancements available today, I'm not getting any younger' within the first minute. Then again, if I didn't call, she'd go ballistic on my ass. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

Anyways, that was the last stop we made before taking the shuttle back to the Normandy. Thank goodness—I'd spent almost 90% of my savings on these purchases, even with the discounts I'd managed finagle. I checked to see that all the purchases I made had arrived, and then headed down to Deck Three. There I stopped long enough to hand the ingredients over to a delighted Gardner, then headed over to sickbay.

"How may I help you, Commander?" Dr. Chakwas asked.

"I have a present for you, Doc" I replied, holding up a bottle.

"Serrice Ice brandy. You didn't," she said, getting to her feet.

I shrugged.

"Thank you."

"Any time," I smiled.

Dr. Chakwas looked at me thoughtfully. "I've always regretted not opening that original bottle—while I still could. I won't make the same mistake again. Why don't we open this bottle right here, right now? You and me?"

I shouldn't drink on duty but... screw it. "You crack open the bottle. I'll get the glasses."

"Bottom shelf in the cabinet on the far left," Chakwas told me. "In the box marked 'Personal Use Only.'

* * *

><p>I mentioned earlier that I never spent that much time talking with Dr. Chakwas. Oh I saw her plenty of times while running around the old Normandy, chatting to see how she was doing, but I never really sat down and talked with her. Boy, did I miss a lot. She'd gathered a lot of stories about the crew before I was assigned to the Normandy, some from firsthand experience. Like this time where Jenkins, the overly-eager corporal who'd gotten himself killed on Eden Prime, had convinced Kaidan to demonstrate his biotics by levitating the table. After Kaidan had lifted the table up for a minute, Jenkins jumped on a chair and hopped from there onto the table, where he rode it like some oversized surfboard. Caught off guard, Kaidan could only keep the mass effect field stable for a couple seconds before the whole thing collapsed, sending Jenkins sprawling on the floor.<p>

"I thought Alenko's biotic display might have broken Jenkins' back, but Jenkins pops up and yells, "That was awesome!" Chakwas demonstrated this by jumping to her feet and waving her hands around.

It was entirely possible that Chakwas had had a little too much to drink by that point.

"Ah, Jenkins," she smiled, sitting back down. "Soldiers like him make the Alliance _great_. Cerberus lacks the same... enthusiasm," she finished sadly.

I kinda felt like a cad for doing so while she was clearly loosened up, but I just had to ask again: "With your service record, you could have gotten a tour of duty on any Alliance ship. Why did you really leave?"

"Maybe it's less about leaving, and more about staying," Chakwas replied. "As a military doctor, I mostly treat people who are in bad shape. Often, they die. And if I can help them, they move on. Either way, they leave."

So, what? She was lonely? "Don't you have any friends or family?"

"No, not lacking friendship—just stability. Jeff... Joker will always have Vrolik syndrome. He would never admit it, but he needs my help. And he always will. I wish it weren't, but sadly, it's true."

Now I got it. "Treating Joker gives you a kind of stability."

"So does this ship," she smiled fondly, "even if it's a copy." She was swaying from side to side, even in her seat. She'd definitely had too much to drink. Wouldn't be long now before she passed out. Mind you, there are worse places to do so.

"Or, hell, maybe it's you," she continued with a laugh. "Shepard, our immovable centre. A place for a person to stop and catch her breath.

"Or maybe I'm just happily drunk," she said happily. "Would it hurt if it was simple like that for once?"

"To the simple things in life, and the people we care for," I toasted.

"May we never take them for granted," Chakwas smiled, clinking my glass.

Sure enough, Dr. Chakwas passed out shortly after. I left her on one of the beds and stumbled out. Yeah, that's right—stumbled. Normally I'm pretty good about holding my liquor, but that brandy was _strong_. I swear the deck was swaying back and forth, and my vision blurred when I started to move.

Still, it was good to let loose with an old colleague and friend. It was just starting to hit me that I'd been effectively exiled, and sentenced to spend the foreseeable future with a bunch of people who I'd have hunted down and arrested in my old life. After all that, I needed some time in familiar surroundings, if only to remind myself that I was still me.

Whatever that was.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Officially designated X3M, these vehicles have a wide variety of informal and more colloquial names, including aircars and skycars. Shepard had some experience in driving such vehicles. In fact, he used that knowledge on one of his earliest missions, before the Battle of Elysium. The details of that mission are not relevant, however, and need not concern us at this time.<em>

_(2): Greyboxes were originally developed to help treat Alzheimer's disease. However, they were prone to causing severe brain damage—either from software errors or attempts to remove them for maintenance. In the end, researchers and spies were the only individuals willing to use them. _

_(3): No comment. _

_(4): I didn't like it any more than he did._

_(5): A little known fact of space travel, starships typically point themselves towards their destination and engage their engines until the halfway mark. At that point, they flip themselves around so the thrusters face 'forward.' This allows for a safe, controlled deceleration while still allowing for as optimal a travel time as possible._


	6. Going to the Nicest Places

**Chapter 6: Going to the Nicest Places**

Welcome to Omega.

The asari name for it translates as 'the heart of evil.' The salarian name means 'the place of secrets.' The turian name comes across as 'the world without law.' The krogan call it the 'land of opportunity.' Call it what you will, there's no denying what it is.

Hidden away in the Terminus Systems, it's the dark, twisted twin to the Citadel that nobody wants to talk about but everyone knows exists. In Omega, the night never ends. Every street is dirty, stained with blood or sweat or tears—if you're lucky. Gaudy neon signs casting a harsh light everywhere you go, their colours the same as the drugs you knew were bad for you, but can't afford to care. And the constant roar of traffic that never, ever stops.

Here the predators hang out with the prey, the strong cuddle with the weak, and no one really cares. People only come here for all sorts of reasons: if they're twisted, desperate, headstrong, stupid, or don't have anywhere else to go. To seek power, to run away, to grab that one last chance. If they can handle it, that is. If they can stand walking down the streets filled with sin and the alleys full of suffering.

Welcome to Omega. Watch your back. 'Cuz someone, somewhere, has a bullet with your name on it.

* * *

><p>Omega's been around longer than anyone can remember. It used to be one giant asteroid that was mined for element zero. It still is, mind you, but various groups and species have tacked on add-on after add-on for the last several centuries. The result is a haphazard, industrial, yet undeniably stunning piece of work.<p>

Unlike the Citadel, we didn't need to take an aircar from the dock to the customs area. Not because there weren't any aircars—there were plenty—but because there was no customs area.

Having said that, our arrival didn't go unnoticed. Miranda, Jacob, Kasumi and I—who I'd lumped together as 'my squad' at some point—had barely gone a dozen metres when we were accosted by an overly friendly salarian.

"Ah! Welcome to Omega!" he grinned. "You're new here, aren't you? I can always tell. Allow me to—"

He abruptly stopped when he noticed the batarian walking towards us. "Oh... Hello, Moklan! Heh. Um. I was, er, I was just—"

"Leave, Fargut," Moklan growled in a low, raspy voice. "Now."

"Of course, Moklan!" Fargut babbled, offering a limp salute. "Whatever she wants!"

He would have probably continued on and on, had Moklan not taken a threatening step towards him to scare him off. As he scurried away without another word, Moklan shook his head in an obvious sign of dismissal before turning his attention towards me.

"Blasted scavengers," he muttered. "Welcome to Omega... _Shepard_."

"You know who I am?"

"Of course," he sneered. "We had you tagged the moment you entered the Terminus Systems. You're not as subtle as you think."

Either this was all talk and bluster, or the criminal grapevine was living up—down?—to its reputation.

"Aria wants to know what brings a dead Spectre to Omega. I suggest you go to Afterlife now and present yourself."

If I didn't know what kind of place this was, Moklan's suggestion confirmed it. Here, more than anywhere else, I couldn't show any fear, any hesitation, any sign of weakness. If I did, I'd either get walked over, or I'd get worked over. Or I'd get shot.

"Cut the attitude," I scowled. "I'm not here to cause problems for Omega."

"Things explode around you, Shepard," Moklan scoffed. "You can't blame Aria for keeping an eye on you."

Hey! That wasn't my fault! Except for... and the... okay. Maybe this Aria has a point.

"Afterlife," Moklan repeated. "Now."

EDI came over the comm while Moklan walked away. "I'm receiving quarantine warnings about the slums where Dr. Mordin Solus runs his clinic. Anticipate resistance at the transport station."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"I have also accessed messages between mercenary groups regarding plans to deal with Archangel. There is a recruiting station in the Afterlife club that may have information on him."

Good. Only a couple minutes on Omega and I already had leads on two of the potential recruits: a hotshot salarian scientist/doctor who could make dealing with the Collectors a little bit easier and a merc commander renowned for his technical expertise, strategic brilliance, and persistent attacks on the scum of Omega.

As for the third recruit? The veteran mercenary and bounty hunter? Well I could see him at the end of the hallway, kneeing a batarian in the gut. The batarian dropped to his knees, his head rolling around on his neck. One of his four eyes must have focused on me, because he started begging "Please... you have to help me."

"No one said you could talk, jackass," the recruit snapped, kicking him again.

"You Zaeed Massani?" I asked.

The man turned around. Forty-something, balding, grey hair. Wore a yellow and black hardsuit with white markings—not Cerberus markings, though_—_and enough dents and scratches to show it had seen a _lot _of use. Funny gladiator-esque frill on his right shoulder. His right eye was hazier and lighter in colour than his left, though I didn't know whether that was due to a quirk in eye colour or some past injury. There was also a curved scar running down the right side of his face from his eyebrow to his upper lip, with a tattoo of some sort just below.

"Yeah, that's me," he said with a rough British accent. "You must be Commander Shepard. I hear we have a galaxy to save."

"I assume you've been briefed?"

"I've done my homework," Zaeed nodded. "Cerberus sent me everything I needed to know."

"Wish Cerberus did the same with me," I mused, looking down at the batarian. "They said we'd be picking up one man. Not two."

"Batarian delinquent," Zaeed shrugged. "Pissed off someone rich enough to hire me to go after him. And for my 'bring 'em in alive' rates, even."

"Please..." the batarian moaned. "I didn't do it..."

Zaeed abruptly swivelled and kicked him in the jaw. "I said shut it.

"Tried to lead me on a chase all over the Systems," Zaeed scowled down at him. For the first time, I noticed some markings—a tattoo on the right side of his neck and some strange pattern on his upper right arm. "He should have known better. These people always run to Omega."

"What's going to happen to him?" I asked.

"I'm going to turn him in for the bounty," Zaeed replied. "Don't much care what happens after that."

"What's your relationship with Cerberus, anyways?"

Zaeed took a step forward. "Easy. Cerberus is paying me a lot of money to help you on your mission. That's the long and short."

I raised an eyebrow. "Not many mercs would take a suicide mission for the pay."

"Most mercs don't get an offer like the one Cerberus sent me," Zaeed replied. "This mission doesn't sound like good business. But... your Illusive Man can move a lot of credits."

"He's not 'my' Illusive Man," I corrected him, looking him over. So far, he struck me as rough, violent, but ultimately professional. He might be a merc-for-hire, but he didn't seem like the type to jump ship or abandon his contract when the going got tough. Once you bought his services, he'd do the job. And the way he carried himself suggested he knew how to use the weapons strapped to his back.

"Good to have you, Zaeed," I finally said, shaking his hand. "We have a lot to do."

"That's what they tell me," Zaeed nodded. He pulled out his pistol and used it to motion his batarian captive to get up. "I assume the Illusive Man told you about our little arrangement?"

Not again. "No," I said flatly. "I guess he decided to leave that information out of the dossier."

"Good thing I asked," Zaeed snorted. "Picked up a mission a little while back, just before I signed on with Cerberus. Thought you might be interested."

"Oh?"

"You heard the name Vido Santiago?" I shook my head. "He's the head of the Blue Suns," Zaeed explained. "Runs the whole organization."

Blue Suns? Wasn't that one of the bigger merc outfits out there? **(1)**

"Seems he recently captured an Eldfell-Ashland refinery on Zorya and is using their workers for slave labour," he went on. "The company wants it dealt with."

"I think we can do that," I said.

"Good. Get it out of the way so we can concentrate on being big goddamn heroes."

While we were talking, the batarian prisoner had gotten to his feet. He chose that opportunity to bolt. Unfortunately for him, he only made it a few metres before Zaeed capped him in the knee.

"I better turn this thing in before it starts to stink," Zaeed sighed.

"Before you go," I jumped in, "here's our squad comm frequency. We have some more people to pick up before we leave this place, so you might as well meet up with us rather than wait on the Normandy."

Zaeed nodded once the frequency info was uploaded to his omni-tool. "Right. I'll be locked and loaded next time you're ready to get some killing done."

With my luck, I thought sourly, that would be all too soon.

* * *

><p>Keeping in mind what that Moklan guy said about seeing this Aria lady ASAP, I promptly did the opposite. The most obvious difference between the Citadel and Omega were the walls and floors. Even in the Wards, they were clean. In comparison, Omega's walls and floors looked... dirty.<p>

"Omega's something of a pisshole," Miranda agreed when I voiced my observation. "At least it keeps you on your toes."

"There is that," I conceded.

"I've had to come here on business before," she continued. "I always feel like I need a shower afterward—in addition to normal decontamination."

"Well, let's get this over with so we can get that shower ASAP," I decided. "Where are the nearest shops?"

I swear I saw Miranda's lip twitch before she lifted her arm. "Behind you," she pointed.

Of course.

After a lil wandering and moving down some stairs, I found this dingy store manned by a quarian.

"Hello there," he said dully. "Might I interest you in some salvaged tech? Every credit goes towards a ticket to get me off this forsaken rock."

I nodded. "Sounds good, um... what's your name?"

"Call me Kenn."

"All right, Kenn. I buy a lot of parts and equipment. Maybe we can make an arrangement," I suggested, recalling my earlier haggling on the Citadel.

"Well..." he hesitated. "You seem like a decent person. All right. Fine. But you can't breathe a word of this to Harrot."

"Of course," I agreed, not knowing who this Harrot guy was.

"Then we have a deal." Under his helmet, I bet Kenn was grinning. "Maybe I'll at least sell something to you."

That was remarkably easy. I moved over to the kiosk and started browsing. As I searched through the inventory, I casually asked "What brought a nice kid like you to Omega?"

"My Pilgrimage. What money I had got stole within a few days. So I decided to sell salvaged parts."

He sighed. "You can see how that turned out. Harrot's forcing me to sell high, and I can't even afford a ticket off this station."

"Why does Harrot control your prices?"

"Harrot made me swear not to undercut him, no matter what. He was here first, so it's his right. But no one will buy from me when he's so much cheaper."

"Which is why you can't save enough to get out of here," I realized. No wonder he was willing to cut me a deal, so long as it was kept quiet. A little of something was better than a whole lot of nothing.

"Yeah."

This verbal deal sounded like a load of bullshit, in my totally-unasked-for opinion. I looked around before leaning towards Kenn. "You know, I could go talk to Harrot for you. Get him to ease up, that sorta thing."

Kenn shrugged. "I won't stop you. If you can convince him to lay off, then maybe I can start saving some credits. You can find him one level up."

I nodded absently, seeing some of those couplings that Ken and Gabby asked me to look for. After buying them, I left to go find this Harrot guy.

On our way up, we passed a bunch of vorcha, who were convinced I knew some guy named Gavorn, and various humans and aliens passed out on the ground.

Jacob looked shocked. And disgusted. "I don't get it," he eventually burst out. "This place—how can these people be left to rot like this?"

"You don't understand, or you don't want to?" Miranda asked.

"Does it matter?" Jacob snorted.

"No," Miranda replied. "Omega has worked this way for a very long time. No one's changing it now."

"What do you think about Omega, Kasumi?" I asked.

"To be honest, I like seedier towns like this," she admitted. "Not because of the suffering—that's horrible—but the towns themselves... They're prettier."

"Prettier?"

"The people here—they value their light. They don't have god-awful neon everywhere, like Ilium or the Citadel. Just the light of people living, moving from place to place. Just enough to know people live here."

Not too much, not too little—just enough for the important stuff, in other words. I guess she had a point, even though there was still a lot of neon here.

After a while, I found Harrot, an elcor who was running an emporium of sorts.

"Tentatively excited," he droned in a monotonous voice. "Welcome, human. What can I get for you?"

"You can get me some information," I started. "Like your 'deal' with the quarian down below."

"Suspicious: if I had made such a deal, I would certainly not be inclined to discuss it. Accusatory: I don't understand how it is any concern of yours." **(2)**

You wanna play hardball, huh? "I don't feel inclined to discuss why I'm making it my concern. But since I'm a nice guy, I'll make a deal with you. You let him set his own prices, and I won't break your legs. Or take out your kneecaps with a few rounds."

I put my hand on my pistol to emphasize my point. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my squad do the same. "One-time offer, pal. Whaddaya say?"

"With barely contained terror: you drive a hard bargain, human," Harrot intoned.

"I learned from the best," I grinned, cracking my knuckles. "You think this is hard? I haven't even started."

"Resignation: very well. I will release the quarian from his promise. Conciliatory: to show there is no ill will, I offer you a discount on my own wares.

"Sure," I replied. "No hard feelings. Whaddya got, anyway?"

"Friendly: salvaged parts. All kinds, mostly legitimate. With pride: my prices are the lowest anywhere on the station. You won't find salvage cheaper than mine."

Well I looked through Harrot's stuff, and there were some items worth picking up. Most of it I couldn't afford, though I did grab a program that would buy me more time to hack through firewalls—always good for liberating credits—and a visor thing that would make headshots a hell of a lot easier. Problem with the latter was that I couldn't wear it under a helmet, so I'd have to run around battlefields without any head protection. Well, that's what shields are for, right? Besides, helmets always muss up my hair. **(3)**

I also dropped by this other store run by a batarian named Marsh. By that point, though, I had pretty much run out of money. Unless I wanted to buy some porn, I'd have to hope that I could hack a few datapads or safes for creds in the near future.

Delivering good news was free, though, so I dropped by to let Kenn know that he was off the hook. As you can probably imagine, he was reasonably pleased.

* * *

><p>After another hour or so of wandering, I decided to go to Afterlife. Not that I'd immediately visit Aria, though. But I'd pretty much checked out everywhere else.<p>

As I led the squad to the club, I activated my comm. "Shepard to Zaeed. You read me?"

"Loud and clear," he shouted over a pounding bass and lots of drunken voices.

"We're heading over to Afterlife."

I think he laughed. Someone did, anyways. "I'm already there," he yelled. He must have moved, judging by the way the music dropped a couple decibels. "Meet you inside. Go through the front door."

We'd made it to the front door by that point, judging by the big neon sign that named the establishment and the long line-up. The bouncer, another elcor, recognized us and let us in. We went through a long corridor with pictures of flames flickering on the vid-panels covering the walls, dealt with a pack of wannabe thugs and entered the club.

Interesting place, Afterlife. Harsh, bright lighting everywhere; really loud music with a body-shaking bass thumping away. It consisted of three levels. The bottom level had a circular bar in the middle with asari dancers writhing and gyrating away. The second level had a large circular opening in the middle for more asari to thrust away and holographic images on the wall. Patrons sat in booths around the outer edge. Three guesses what the patrons were looking at. Near the back, I could see a private lounge, where I guessed Aria hung out. And the third level? From my angle, it looked like it boasted a balcony from which you could look down on the club and pics of flaming torches. The last one struck me as strangely appropriate, given the name of the establishment.

Didn't take us long to find Zaeed. He was standing a metre away from the door, his eyes darting around.

"You expecting trouble?" I asked.

"I knew a bar out on the front, a lot like this," Zaeed replied absently. No idea which front this was, though. "Me and some friends got stupid one night."

"Uh oh," I commented.

"Damn right," Zaeed snorted. "Long story short: tempers flared, followed by pistols. We all got out except my old buddy Narko. Places like this are slaughterhouses dressed as nightclubs, I shit you not."

"We were told to 'report' to Aria," I said.

Zaeed recognized the name. "Aria T'Loak. She's the asari who runs Omega, as much as anyone runs a shithole like this. Up there," he nodded at the lounge, confirming my earlier suspicions.

"Well then," I grinned. "Let's go somewhere else first."

It didn't take long for us to navigate the rest of Afterlife. Mainly because none of us drank, danced or drooled over the asari strippers. We only stopped once when someone called my name.

"Commander Shepard," a grey-haired woman gasped. "Is that you? I—I'd heard you were dead!"

I recognized her. H-something... Drake? No, that wasn't it. Blake! There we go. Now what was her first name?

"I'm Helena Blake," she said before I could make a fool of myself. "We met a few years ago. I don't expect you'd remember."

Now it all came back. "I do, as a matter of fact. You were part of a crime syndicate at the time, and I got rid of the warlords who were running the show after you pointed me in the right direction. After that, I convinced you that you'd never get the syndicate away from its red sand dealing and slave trafficking roots."

"After which I retired," Helena concluded. "I'll never forget it, though I'm impressed you remembered."

"What brings you to Omega?"

"What brings anyone to Omega?" she shrugged. "Opportunity? Success? Failure? All of the above? I find this place suits me. I can bring it a certain... air of civility, I suppose."

She certainly had civility down pat. I always remembered Helena for the cultured and intelligent tones that coloured the intonation of her speech. Not that she was putting on airs. More like it was just a part of her, like the air she breathed.

"Bring civility to Omega?" I asked sceptically. "A place full of mercs and thieves and murderers? You're trying to make crime a civilized business or something?"

"Oh no, Commander," she hastened to correct me. "I meant it when I said I retired. I know better than to go back on my word with you. You convinced me to turn my life around. I'm a social worker now, believe it or not."

"That seems like a hopeless job in a place like Omega," I snorted.

"Quite the opposite, actually," Helena disagreed. "This place needs it more than most. Doing the good work in a place like this requires that one understand how things _truly_ work. Which makes me uniquely qualified."

As strange as it sounded, I believed her. Her body language, the earnest look in her face, her eyes... they all seemed to indicate she was telling the truth. Maybe it was just my gut speaking, but she seemed to be on the up-and-up. "That's... more noble than I expected," I said finally.

"Noble? No," Helena shook her head. "It's just that someone came along a few years ago and made me see the error of my ways. You convinced me that I could use my contacts and skills for things other than smuggling and exploitation. I thank you for that."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're keeping out of trouble."

"Thank you," she smiled. "This is all to your credit, Commander."

* * *

><p>Finally, I got bored enough to go see Aria. I figured I'd established that I wasn't gonna jump at her beck and call by now. So up the stairs I went to the private lounge. An asari was standing at the top, with various goons surrounding her. Guards, obviously. I could have waited until she deigned to notice me, but that might have been interpreted as a sign of weakness. To show I wasn't some pushover, I ignored the closest thugs and climbed the last couple stairs.<p>

"That's close enough," she called out without turning around as soon as I reached the top. On cue, the guards pulled out their weapons and aimed them at us. The rest of my squad followed suit, but it was clear we were outnumbered. I didn't move an inch towards my guns, though. Partly as part of my tough-guy routine, partly because I was curious to see what would happen next.

Aria tilted her head, and one of the guards—a batarian who was trying to look menacing—holstered his pistol and activated his omni-tool. "Stand still," he barked. A miniature holographic representation of me appeared over his omni-tool, slowly rotating in place.

"If you're looking for weapons, you're not doing a very good job," I observed, pointing to my pistol.

"Can't be too careful with dead Spectres," Aria said over her shoulder. "That could be anyone wearing your face."

"I was told you're the person to talk to if I have questions," I tried.

"He's clean," the batarian reported. He moved to the side and Aria turned around, staring at me coldly. I took the opportunity to take a look myself. She had markings across her forehead and down each cheek, though they looked more like tattoos than the facial freckles asari often sported. White leather half-jacket over some kind of black halter top. Tight black pants tucked into black boots—or maybe vice versa. Hard to tell with the lighting.

"Depends on the questions," Aria said in answer to my earlier question.

"You run Omega?"

She laughed and turned around. Silhouetted against the neon lights of Afterlife, she thrust her arms out dramatically. "I _am _Omega."

Was that her middle name, and was I supposed to be impressed?

She turned back and looked at me, as if to gauge my reaction. "But you need more," she continued, packing back and forth. "Everyone needs more something, and they all come to me. I'm the boss, CEO, queen if you're... feeling dramatic."

Aria rolled her eyes at that last title, as if acknowledging that her little act earlier was a bit of dramatization for easily-impressed schmucks and that she knew I knew it.

"All hail the queen," I cracked.

"Call me what you will," Aria shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. Omega has no titled ruler and _only_ one rule."

She sat down on a wrap-around couch and glared at me before uttering the one rule:

"Don't. _Fuck_. With Aria."

"I like it," I quipped. "Easy to remember."

"If you forget, someone will remind you," she said, nodding to the batarian who scanned us earlier.

"And then I toss your sorry ass out the nearest airlock," he sneered.

Aria gestured for me to sit down. I did so, picking a spot that would be perpendicular to Aria, but still allow me to see most of the people—and my squad—in the lounge.

"So, what can I do for you?" Aria asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's it? One scan and we're straight to business? People are usually more concerned about who I am."

"Your death was downplayed, but hardly what I call a secret," she replied casually, her face and voice looking like my untimely demise was just a boring tidbit that she happened to hear at some point or other. "I had to make sure it was really you. You could have been anyone. Anything. Whatever you need will come out on its own. I'm curious, but Omega doesn't really care about you."

Translation: she did care, but didn't want to make it look like she did, lest she accidentally prompt her enemies—current and otherwise—to start poking around. Information is power, after all.

"I guess you must know what's what on Omega," I said, continuing our small talk. "Since you're curious and all."

"Everything that's worth knowing. I don't usually give it out freely. Information is power."

Like I said.

"Mundane things, you can find yourself. Take a walk in a back alley, or buy one of the mercs a drink." She leaned towards me. "Better yet, talk to the entertainers. They give great tours. Just don't waste my time."

She flopped back, a slight scowl back on her face. I was starting to sense that she would only tolerate me so long before her impatience overcame her curiosity. Too bad—I wasn't done yet. "Hey, it's my time I'm wasting too. Speaking of time: you've been here for a while. Tell me how you got set up here."

Aria immediately got to her feet. "That's as privileged as information gets," she replied coldly. She never looked at me, but I could tell she was just a little peeved.

"Something I said?" I asked innocently.

"I have many friends and enemies I keep at varying distances. I don't count you among either. We'll see how useful you prove."

Aria sat back down and glared at me. "Short answer: mind your own damn business."

Interesting. So far, she'd been playing the boss/CEO/queen act—alternating between tough, haughty and bored as the situation warranted. It was only when I asked for personal details that her facade cracked. And judging by the vehemence of her reaction, that was quite the touchy spot.

"I'm looking for Mordin Solus," I finally gave in. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"The salarian doctor? Last I heard, he was trying to help plague victims in the quarantine zone." A wicked grin spread over her face. "I always liked Mordin," she admitted. "He's as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Used to be part of the salarian Special Tasks Group. He's brilliant and dangerous. Just don't get him talking—he never shuts up."

Huh. Scientific genius, doctor and covert ops specialist. Interesting.

"If you really need to find him, just take a shuttle to the quarantine zone. No guarantee the guards will let you in, of course."

"Of course," I nodded, getting to my feet. "Thanks for the information."

"Yes," Aria replied, her bored look back in place. "Just try not to bring the plague back with you."

* * *

><p>"That was too easy," Jacob said suspiciously as we left Afterlife. "No way Aria would just hand out information like that so freely."<p>

"She didn't exactly give us detailed intel," I pointed out. "Just a nudge in the right direction. Her 'payment' probably will come from watching what we do next."

"There's always the possibility that she'll demand something in the future, but you're probably right," Miranda agreed. "Aria didn't get to where she is by relying solely on immediate monetary payment."

We dropped by the Normandy first. Seemed smart to take a leak back there rather than on a station where someone might stab you in the back while you're doing your business. Besides, I wanted to modify my armour. I switched out my helmet for the visor I'd picked up earlier, and replaced the Kestrel arm sheath mod with some doo-hickey with compartments to store extra thermal clips.

Then we went back to Omega and started hunting for a way to the quarantine zone. I know: I take my guys to the nicest places.

It turned out that access to the shuttles going to and from the quarantine zone lay near the shops that I visited earlier. The argument between a female human civvie and a turian guard made it pretty easy to find it.

"I told you to get lost, lady!" the guard yelled. "The plague has the whole zone quarantined! Nobody gets in!"

"I'm human, you ass!" she seethed. "Humans can't get the plague!"

Oh good. For once something was going in my favour.

"Now let me get my stuff out before looters get it!"

The guard wasn't budging, though. "This thing affects every other race out there! We're not taking chances. Nobody gets in until the plague has run its course."

"So you're saying the slums are completely sealed off?" I asked.

"Finally," the guard sighed in relief, "a human that can hear. Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"You can't keep me out," the woman said. Looked like both of them were starting to calm down a little. "I'm going to lose all my stuff!"

"I'm doing you a favour, human," the guard insisted. "Anybody in the quarantine zone will be dead from the plague or the gangs in a few weeks."

"Well that doesn't give me much time," I mused. The guard looked at me in confusion. "There's a salarian named Mordin Solus in the slums," I explained. "I've got to get in there to find him."

"The doctor? Crazy bastard opened a clinic in the district a few months ago. The Blue Suns weren't too happy when he moved in. I hear Mordin's trying to deal with the plague. I wish him luck, but the area's still locked down. Our orders are to wait until either the plague or the Blue Suns kill everyone, then go in and clean up."

Blue Suns were here too, huh? "What can you tell me about the Blue Suns?"

"One of the mercenary gangs here on Omega. They had a cohort that ran this district—at least, they used to. That particular group consisted mostly of turians, and I heard the plague hit them pretty hard. Now the whole district's up for grabs. Word on the street is that the vorcha are making a move. The plague can't hurt them—they're immune to disease. **(4)** Just one more reason why you don't want to go in there.

"Tell me more about this plague," I prompted.

"Starts out as a cough, then you start coughing blood and... well, then I shoot you."

Great.

"It affects multiple species. Turians, salarians, krogan—you name it. Only humans are immune. And vorcha, if you count them. An airborne disease that takes down multiple races? We can't let that spread—hence the quarantine."

"Isn't it unusual for this disease to cross species like that?" I asked. "I mean, turians can't even eat the same food as salarians or krogan, or vice versa."

"Right," the guard nodded. "Most people figure that it has to be synthetic. Somebody engineered it, and it either got loose or they're testing it here. And seeing as how humans are immune to the plague and doing a fair bit of looting, a lot of people think humans made it."

"Any idea where I can find Mordin's clinic?"

"Not a clue," the guard shook his head. "What do you care? The place is quarantined, remember?"

"Listen, you're stuck here until this quarantine is over," I told him. "That could take weeks. What you really need is to get this problem solved right now. That's what I do—solve problems. Let me in, and I'll get this district straightened out."

The guard looked at me for a moment, then shrugged. "You think you can fix this, why not? The quarantine is more to keep infected people in, anyway. I'll radio ahead, tell them you're coming in."

"Wait, you're stopping me but not them?" the woman burst out. "You son of a bitch!"

"You don't have a grenade launcher, lady," the guard scoffed. "Get lost."

I might have offered to help her out, but the woman stormed off before I could say anything. So I turned to the squad instead. My all-human squad.

Miranda also noticed how the squad composition suited the unique challenge of this mission. "I suppose it's fortunate that humans are immune to the plague."

Yeah. Lucky us.

* * *

><p>Fortunately, there were enough shuttles to take the five of us down into the bowels of Omega and its quarantine zone. Otherwise, we would have had to leave someone behind. On the way down, I decided to keep everyone together as one squad. Five people was a reasonable size. Besides, I had no idea how Zaeed or Kasumi would fare in combat.<p>

Even though I wasn't dividing the squad into fire-teams, I decided to designate Miranda as my assistant squad leader. Despite that whole can-I-trust-her-or-not/friends-close-enemies-closer thing, the fact remained that I needed someone to take over if I got knocked out or preoccupied with fending off impending doom, and she seemed like a better choice than Jacob.

When we arrived, I started out with some good ol' fashioned scrounging. Managed to pick up some eezo and medi-gel that no one was using. There were a few guards in the area. Thankfully they recognized us from their counterpart's radio message, otherwise I'd have had to loot under fire.

It didn't take long before we reached the last door sealing the quarantine zone from the rest of Omega. "Good luck in there," the guard said, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice. "The Blue Suns and vorcha are shooting anything that moves."

We went inside, the door hissing shut behind us. I tried not to freak out. A flight of stairs led down into a large room. About halfway down, I saw something at the end of the room and motioned for the squad to halt. Miranda and Kasumi stumbled a bit, not used to Alliance hand signals, but they took their cue from Jacob and Zaeed.

Pulling out my sniper rifle, I crouched on the stairs. I glimpsed some movement before someone assumed firing position next to me. Zaeed, I guessed from the hardsuit colour.

"Two targets," Zaeed whispered, confirming my guess. "Blue Suns. Probably with shields. Got a disruptor mod on you?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, activating the mod. "You?"

"Yeah. I'll take the right guy."

"On three," I confirmed. "Three... two... one..."

Judging from the way both mercs collapsed, Zaeed and I had fired in unison. We quickly moved down to clear the room.

"I've seen a lot of bad before," Kasumi said tensely. "This is worse. Way worse."

"Guess they just left their dead to rot in the streets," Jacob spat.

"No, they're burning corpses," Miranda corrected. "They must be trying to keep the plague from spreading."

"Plague control at its most basic," Zaeed agreed.

I looted the area with a bit more haste than normal. Never was a fan of burning flesh. I managed to hack a bank terminal for some creds and got a few power cells for my grenade launcher. Also heard the last audio recordings of this turian who'd gotten locked in his room with his friend by the Blue Suns. That was... kinda creepy.

We were about to move on when one of the bodies moved. It was a batarian. He coughed for a few seconds before lifting his head.

His face soured. "Human," he grumbled in between coughs. "Should've guessed. Bad enough you infect us with this plague. Now you lack the decency to even wait until I _die_ before you come to steal my possessions."

"What makes you think humans created this plague?" I asked. Yeah, that guard that granted us clearance to get in gave his theory, but I wanted to hear what this guy thought.

"The proof is there for all to see," the batarian sneered, waving his hand about. For the first time, I noted he had a pistol on him. He coughed before continuing "Your species is the only one that does not succumb to the virus. Yours, and the wretched vorcha."

He coughed again. "Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked, leaning down.

"Get away from me, human!" he cried, waving his gun around. That brought about another cough or two. "Your kind has done too much already! Your plague did this to me," he wheezed. "Your feigned pity is the final insult."

"I'm looking for Professor Mordin Solus," I said.

The batarian spat, though thankfully not at me. "Humans looking for the human sympathizer. *cough* I hope the vorcha burn Mordin and his clinic to the ground."

His words disappeared in a sudden fit of intense coughing. Undeterred, he tried to curse me as he hacked and coughed away. "I hope you... I hope... Damn it.

"Damn you," he mumbled, his head starting to drop. "Can't..."

"Hey, stay with me," I snapped, mostly to get his attention rather than because I was pissed at him. I bent over and gave him a dose of medi-gel before he conked out completely. "This won't cure the plague, but it might help a bit."

More than a bit, as it turned out. The batarian found enough strength to get to his feet. And the coughing and wheezing stopped. He took a deep breath, and I could hear that the rattling in his chest had abated for the most part.

"You... you helped me," he said at last in a stunned voice. "Why?"

"It's what I do," I replied. "I don't know if I can find a cure for this plague, but I'm going to try. You don't have to help if you don't want to, but you don't have anything to lose by doing so."

The batarian slowly nodded. "Your words sound... sincere. Maybe it's the fever, but as you said—what have I to lose?"

"Why are you so convinced humans are behind this outbreak?" I started.

"Because the plague is too potent to be a naturally occurring virus. Airborne transmission across numerous species? Near-perfect mortality rate? It had to be created in a lab. And since humans are the only species not affected, there is only one logical conclusion."

"Okay, maybe I should have been more specific," I said. "Why conclude that humans were responsible and not the vorcha? Aren't they immune to the plague? What if they spread the virus so they could take over the district?"

The batarian shook his head. "True, vorcha are immune to disease, so a human-created plague wouldn't affect them. But if the vorcha created the plague, why wouldn't it affect humans?"

Okay, he had a point there.

"Besides, the vorcha aren't _smart_ enough to make a virus like this. They're scavengers." **(5)**

There was a slight possibility that the vorcha were simply being underestimated. However...

"Sorry, human," the batarian said, noting the look that must have spread over my face. "You may not want to believe it, but all the evidence points to your species."

I shook my concerns aside. "I heard that there's a bit of a power struggle between the Blue Suns that control this district and the vorcha right now. What can you tell me about that?"

"The Blue Suns _used _to control this district, but as their numbers fell to the plague, the vorcha moved in. It's only a matter of time until the plague overwhelms them. If the vorcha don't get them first."

"I need to find Mordin Solus. Do you know where his clinic is?" I asked.

"Over on the far side of the district," the batarian replied. "He's taking in refugees. Offering to help those infected with the plague."

"Why didn't you go to him?" Miranda asked.

"I was afraid," he replied. "He's dangerous. But perhaps he can help."

"What makes Mordin worse than dying from the plague?" I frowned.

"The Blue Suns tried to press him for protection money," he replied. "He killed them. Stunned them with some kind of toxin, then gunned them down. He's not just a doctor. Doctors don't execute people and display the bodies as a warning."

I wasn't sure whether to admire this guy's style or be concerned that he was the type of guy that TIMmy would recommend.

"When I find Mordin, I'll tell him about you," I offered. "If he has a cure, I'll make sure someone gets it to you."

The batarian coughed. Looked like the medi-gel's effects were starting to wear off already. "Thank you," he managed. "My time is running short, but at least you have given me a flicker of hope to brighten the darkness of my final hours. I don't want to die. Whatever Mordin is, I will risk his treatment, if he can reach me."

* * *

><p>Before leaving, I helped the batarian back to a sitting position. It would take less effort to sit, and he needed to ration every ounce of strength he had left.<p>

Seeing a nearby door, I bypassed the lock and popped in for a look. Down the stairs I went, and into a dimly lit residence, with a dead batarian, a safe and some audio logs. Again, I listened to the logs while I helped myself to a bunch of credits. Morbid curiosity, I guess. Plus, it's the least I could do after looting his room.

Once we finished, we entered some place called Kokomo Plaza. I'm sure it would have been a nice place, for Omega, if there weren't a bunch of targets detected by my sensors. Motioning for the squad to stay back, I activated my cloak and used the brief window of opportunity it provided to get a sense of the area.

"Well?" Miranda asked when I retreated.

"Courtyard up ahead. Bit of cover here and there," I reported. "At least three or four Blue Suns set up behind a barricade at the far end of the courtyard, probably more. Outside the courtyard, on the left, there's a corridor that goes all the way to the other end. Thing is, you still have to run across the courtyard—in front of the barricade—if you want to loop around and get the jump on anyone. There's also a set of stairs on the left going up. I think it leads to a balcony somewhere."

"OK," Jacob said. "What's the plan, Commander?"

"I'll head up to the balcony and see if I can't whittle their numbers down. Wait for my signal, then send two people to go into the courtyard and the other two to move into the corridor. Hit the mercs on two fronts from the ground."

"I'll go into the courtyard," Jacob volunteered.

Okay, so to balance things off... "Fine. Kasumi, go with Jacob."

"Oh goody. Right into the fire zone!" Kasumi said brightly.

"Miranda, Zaeed, help Jacob and Kasumi out from the corridor. While you're at it, I'd take it as a kindness if you didn't let anyone sneak up the stairs."

"Understood," Miranda nodded. "How will we know when to move in?"

"When you hear the Blue Suns wondering why one of their guys is missing a head," I shrugged.

With that, I pulled up my sniper rifle and snuck up to the second level. I moved over to the balcony, which ran parallel to the corridor, and activated my cloak. Then I popped up, aimed my sniper rifle in the general direction of one of the Blue Suns and peeked through the scope. I corrected my aim, breathed out and fired.

I paused long enough to see a spray of blood burst from the trooper's head and his body crumple to the ground before ducking back behind the balcony. While I couldn't see anything, I could hear the Blue Suns exclaim in surprise, then start yelling and firing as my squad moved to their positions.

"Humans!" someone yelled. "Don't let them spread the plague!"

By that point, my cloak had recharged. I got to my feet, lifted my sniper rifle...

...and felt a few bullets hit my shields. Belatedly, I realized that I forgot to activate my cloak. I did so, noting that the cloak activation put my shield regeneration cycle on standby. I'd have to make sure I got behind some cover before the cloak wore off.

"Lost contact!" one of the Blue Suns cursed. He probably shouldn't have said anything. I had a lot of targets to choose from, and one loud-mouth was as good a choice as any.

You'd think this was easy. I mean, I had the tactical advantage of height, a cloak, and a sniper rifle. Easy, right? Wrong. See, while the mercs couldn't see me, they were experienced enough to trace the trajectory back and extrapolate the general direction of the kill-shot. They also were smart enough to move around, recognizing that it's a hell of a lot harder to snipe a target when it's moving. That was why I had the other members of my squad move in. Let them have some fun killing mercs—I'm not greedy after all.

The fact that it would pull some attention away from me was a bonus. Honest.

From my vantage point, it was easy for me to see where everyone was and designate targets with my HUD. Of course, I didn't do that all the time. I did have a sniper rifle in my hot little hands, and it was just so much fun to see mercs who think they're safe and prove them wrong. There's a certain satisfaction in seeing the stunned look on their face just before they drop.

I should probably get out more, huh?

Anyways, most of the mercs were taken out pretty quickly. The only tough one was their leader—a legionnaire, according to Blue Suns hierarchy. His shields and hardsuit were a bit tougher than his subordinates, so it took a while to take him down. I directed the five-on-one fight until a stiff breeze could knock him over. Then I left him to the squad's tender mercies. I'd spotted some circuit boards and an old med-kit when I came up, and I wanted to swipe it for extra credits.

After that, I headed back down and joined the squad, who was searching for spare thermal clips to replenish the ones they used in combat. As I gathered enough clips to replenish the ones I used up sniping mercs, I noticed a locked door over on the side. Moseying over, I bypassed it and headed in, with my squad close behind. We went down some stairs into a relatively nice open-floor concept apartment, one with a man and woman hiding.

"Oh thank god," the woman said, sagging in relief. "You're human."

"Yep," I nodded. I headed over to them, surreptitiously swiping a med-kit on the way.

"When we saw that door open, we thought those turians had found us," the man said. "Ever since this plague started, the Blue Suns have been out to get us. They're killing as many people as the disease."

"They should be looking at the vorcha, not us!" the woman burst out. "Ever since the plague hit, they've been taking over Blue Suns territory."

"What can you tell me about this plague?" I asked. "When did it start?"

"The first cases cropped up about... two weeks ago?" the man said, turning to the woman for confirmation. She nodded and he continued. "Nobody paid much attention until it started to spread. Usually takes a week to kill you. But it spreads fast. Three days after the first outbreak, there were over fifty known cases."

"That's when everyone noticed humans weren't getting sick," the woman added. "Then the quarantine came down, and everything went to hell."

"Any idea how the victims contracted it?" I know other people already answered that question, but I could afford some time to get confirmation, and I didn't want my questions to affect their answers.

"No idea," the man replied. "Probably airborne. Even after the Blue Suns started sealing victims up in their own apartments, the plague kept spreading. Now they just gun victims down and burn the bodies in the streets. Doesn't seem to be helping, though. People keep dying by the dozen."

"What's it like having the Blue Suns have the run of this place?"

"They kept things nice and stable, for the most part," the man shrugged.

"As long as you paid your monthly protection fees, everything was cool," the woman said. "Rates were pretty reasonable. For Omega, at least."

So the Blue Suns weren't above a little extortion, huh? Mind you, in a place like this, that kind of security might be a good thing.

The man sighed. "Then this damn plague hit. Everyone started dying. The vorcha started moving in. The Blue Suns lost control, and the whole district turned into a warzone."

"You said the vorcha moved in just _after _the plague hit," I emphasized.

"Right after the district was quarantined," the woman confirmed.

"Not sure where they came from," the man shook his head. "Never saw many vorcha around before. Sure seemed like they were ready for this."

"Vorcha?" Zaeed snorted. "They're opportunistic buggers, I'll give them that. But planning for this in advance? Doesn't fit their MO."

"Exactly," the woman nodded. "No one else thinks the vorcha are smart enough to create a virus like this. The Blue Suns need someone else to blame. Like us."

"So have the vorcha taken over most of the district?" I asked. "All we've seen are Blue Suns so far."

"They're trying to," the man replied. "The Blue Suns don't go down easy. The plague softened 'em up, but they still have enough firepower to hold some of their turf. The turians are getting pushed back, though. The deeper you go into the district, the more vorcha you'll see... unless they see you first."

"We're looking for Mordin Solus," I moved on. "We heard he's got a clinic somewhere in the far side of the district?"

"Oh yeah. Him," the man said, almost sarcastically. "Yeah, that's where his clinic is."

The woman perked up when she heard Mordin's name. "I heard about him. Sounds like it's a safe place to be right now. Especially if you're human."

The man stared at her in disbelief. "You really think that?" his voice dripped with disbelief. "A doctor with military-grade mechs? Helping people for free? On _Omega_? Grow up."

"Sounds like you don't think much of the doctor and his clinic," I observed.

I detected a slight tremble in the man's voice as he replied. "The vorcha tried to muscle in—he gunned them down, just like that. Pop, pop, pop. Didn't even use his mechs."

"Then the Blue Suns heard he was sheltering humans and they went to burn down the clinic," the woman said. "He killed them too. Then he went inside and got back to work. He's cold. Must be special forces or something."

I was starting to get the hint that Mordin was a Big Deal. Dunno why. Call it a hunch.

"You can't stay trapped in this apartment forever," I pointed out. "If you get to Mordin's, you might at least survive until the quarantine ends."

"Are you _nuts_?" the woman exclaimed. "We'll never make it. The streets are crawling with Blue Suns and vorcha. We don't even have pistols."

"Besides, I'm not risking my life on a rumour that some salarian might offer me sanctuary," the man muttered.

"I know you're scared," I said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder, "but your only hope is to go to Mordin's clinic. We're going to be taking fire from the Blue Suns and the vorcha, so we can't take you with us. But we'll do what we can to leave a safe path for you to follow. It's risky, but I think it's your only chance."

The man and woman looked at each other. The woman shrugged, and the man sighed. "Okay... you're right," he agreed. "We'll never make it if we stay here. We have to try. We'll wait for a while and give you time to clear the way. Then we'll head for Mordin's clinic. If we're lucky, we'll meet you there."

With that, we said our goodbyes and left. While the refugees were distracted with everyone else wishing them good luck, I snuck over to the wall safe and helped myself to its contents. I hoped no one would rat me out. I didn't want to sit down with Kelly and have her ask questions about the psychological roots behind my rampant kleptomania.

* * *

><p>We went back through the courtyard to a door that the Blue Suns we fought earlier were guarding. One of the Blue Suns had an odd-looking assault rifle, so I stopped to take a closer look. Seemed like he'd modified his weapon to deal more damage. I scanned his rifle so we could replicate his mod on the Normandy if—<em>when<em>—we got back.

As soon as we passed through the door, we could hear gunfire. Sounded like it was coming from the room up ahead. There was a set of stairs immediately to our left, so I led my squad up the stairs. They led to a small balcony that sat over the room. From our vantage point, we could see a trio of turians in Blue Suns uniforms fighting at least a dozen vorcha and a handful of varren. Miraculously, the Blue Suns still had their shields intact.

"Let's help the Blue Suns out," I decided. They probably wouldn't last long, but I wasn't about to say no to free help. "Concentrate on the varren first, then go for the vorcha."

Easier said than done, as it turned out. First we had to penetrate the armour that protected the varren and vorcha. Then we had to deal with their healing abilities—damn buggers regenerated _real _fast unless you killed them outright, set them on fire or twisted their bodies with biotics. For example, I set one guy on fire, taking out his armour and a good chunk of his health. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough leftover plasma to seriously injure him, and he healed himself before my very eyes.

"Huh. That went well," I noted.

Before I could do anything else, one of the Blue Suns leaned out of cover and took the vorcha down with a sustained burst from his assault rifle. For his trouble, he was rewarded by a varren leaping for his throat. He managed to let out a cry, which quickly turned into a messy gurgle. Zaeed did something with his assault rifle, aimed and fired off a high-powered concussive round to finish the varren off.

Speaking of varren, I noticed one heading for another set of stairs. One that led straight up to the balcony that was providing us refuge. I hurried over to head the big fish-dog off, firing a plasma round from my omni-tool as I went. It arced over, landed on the varren and burst into flame. Still didn't kill it, though. As it bounded up the stairs, I cursed and pulled out my pistol. Took a full clip, mainly because the damn thing kept moving, but I managed to put it down.

Then I moved back to my position at the balcony. There weren't any more varren that I could see, and we'd finished off most of the vorcha. There were still reinforcements, though, streaming in ones and twos from the far side of the room. One of them, toting a big pack, aimed at another Blue Suns merc. A stream of flame roared out, engulfing the turian. The poor guy staggered back, all crispy and toasted, before collapsing to the ground.

Typical. You go to all this trouble to keep them alive so they can draw some fire for you, and what do they do? Go off and die on you. How inconsiderate.

"Looks like it's all up to us now, guys," I shouted, firing my sniper rifle. To my satisfaction, vorcha regeneration was no match for a well-placed sniper round.

"Look out!" Miranda shouted.

A big shape was skulking towards us, hugging the walls. As it moved out of the shadows, I took a good look.

It was a krogan. A mean one.

Aw, crap.

"Miranda, Jacob and I have the krogan," I ordered. "Everyone else, focus on the vorcha."

The krogan soaked up a lot of damage. Wouldn't do my rep any favours to admit it, but we were lucky that there was still one more Blue Suns merc on the ground. The poor guy distracted the krogan, who promptly decided it would be more fun to fire some shotgun rounds at him and watch him bleed out. Maybe the krogan was going for a gut shot. If so, he missed. Judging by the glee he took in watching the turian clasp a certain part of his anatomy before crumpling to the ground, though, I think the krogan intentionally aimed a little lower.

While the krogan was distracted, we took the opportunity to fill the guy full of lead. Between my plasma blasts and several frantic rounds of weapons fire, we managed to damage his armour. At least, enough for Jacob's biotics to get a hold of the big lug and lift him off the ground. The krogan spun around merrily for a brief second or two, before Miranda's biotics detonated the mass effect field keeping him aloft, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Got another krogan," Kasumi yelled. "Big one, too."

For once, there were no other targets in the room. Oh there were still a few stragglers hanging around somewhere, according to my HUD, but they hadn't shown up yet. So all five of us were free to mow the krogan down.

Then I heard a roar. Peering over the balcony, I saw that the first krogan—the one we went to so much trouble to deal with—hadn't died after all. It was still alive and healing itself with every second.

Aw, crap.

I sent some plasma down to burn the sucker. To my dismay, it just wasn't enough to kill it. The krogan started up the stairs, sending a hail of bullets my way. I ducked back, but not before he took out my shields.

"Krogan coming up," I reported.

"Well we've still got vorcha coming in," Zaeed replied. "Take that, you bastards," he roared, taking one of them out.

I looked around to see who was closest to the stairs. "Kasumi, Miranda—get ready to head off one seriously pissed krogan," I warned.

Naturally the krogan reached the top of the stairs at that very moment, rather than waiting until my shields regenerated. Kasumi, Miranda and I opened fire. Well, Miranda and I opened fire. Kasumi reached over to her omni-tool and tapped something. "Now you see me," she said brightly.

And then she vanished.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. The krogan paused, looking around in confusion.

Then Kasumi flickered into view behind him and jabbed her arm into his back. A flare or something surged from her omni-tool into his body. He shuddered for a moment, then dropped to the floor.

I quickly moved back to the balcony and fired a shot from my sniper rifle. The poor vorcha hiding behind a barrel spun around before collapsing like a puppet whose strings were cut. Then I turned to Kasumi.

"So," I said casually. "You got a cloaking device, too. When were you going to mention it?"

"Oh, I wasn't," she shrugged. "Girl's gotta keep her secrets, you know. But I figured you'd see it in action sooner or later."

By that point, we'd taken out all the enemies, and it didn't look like anyone else was going to join the party. With a collective sigh of relief, we got up and headed downstairs. I moved over to check the turian who'd had his family jewels blasted off. Unfortunately, it looked like he'd succumbed to his injuries.

"It's seems that we've crossed over into vorcha territory," Miranda said.

Jacob frowned. "The Blue Suns have given up a lot of turf. That doesn't bode well for them."

Zaeed crouched by one of the vorcha and examined it. "Blood Pack," he pronounced after a minute.

"Huh?"

That's me—always with the witty remark.

"Merc group. Krogan mostly, though they love press-ganging vorcha wherever they can find them for extra manpower. Or cannon fodder. Whichever comes first."

At this point, I noticed that my weapons were still equipped with an active disruptor mod. Since no one was trying to put some extra holes in my body, I methodically switched each of my weapons over to my warp ammo mod. The mass effect field it would generate around each bullet would be more useful against regenerating mercs.

"Hey, Shep," Kasumi said, grabbing my attention. "There's a door over here."

"And here," Jacob called out. "Looks like this one heads towards the clinic."

We met up by the door Kasumi found and went in. The first room didn't have much besides a lot of empty crates and barrels, though I did manage to scrounge some eezo. The second room was another apartment. Bit sparse, but it had enough to meet its tenant's needs.

Or they would have, if he wasn't dead. He was a turian, lying down on the floor. Couldn't tell if it was from the plague or from the two humans who were ransacking the place.

"Hey, hey, hey!" one of them protested. "Back off... we got here first!"

Ignoring him, I walked over to them, my squad close behind.

"Hey, what did I say?" the first one said. "We found this stuff. It's ours!"

"Aw, forget it," his partner said. He was crouching on the floor, next to the turian. "Nothing but junk in here. This place is worse than the last one."

"What are you doing in this apartment?" I asked. "Did you kill that turian?"

"What, the guy on the floor?" the first looter asked.

"No, the other turian," I deadpanned.

"Nah, the plague must've taken care of him. He was like that when we found him." The first guy exchanged a sly grin with his partner before adding "We're just here to take a full accounting of all his worldly possessions."

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Not like he's gonna miss anything."

"Exactly," the first looter grinned. "We're just showing a little... entrepreneurial spirit. The plague doesn't affect us humans, so we might as well cash in."

"Besides, if we don't take this stuff, the vorcha or Blue Suns will," the other guy chimed in. "Better us than them, right?"

"I think you should stop looting," I said mildly.

"Or what?" the first guy laughed. "You gonna shoot us?"

"I'm just saying that the plague won't last forever," I shrugged. "When the Blue Suns come back, they won't like you looting in their territory."

The looters shuffled uneasily. The first guy, obviously the spokesman for this duo finally spoke up. "Yeah, well... maybe they won't find out. It's not like there's any witnesses alive to tell them."

"Taking a big chance on that," I warned. "There are Blue Suns outside the quarantine zone, you know. They're bound to send fresh troops to take back their turf once the plague dies down. And they probably have records. Who was paying 'protection fees' to them, what sort of collateral they had. That sort of thing. They come in and see something's missing, they'll start hunting. You sure some dead turian's trinkets and a handful of creds are worth that risk?"

"We just wanted to make a bit of quick cash," the first guy said uneasily. "But when you put it like that... it doesn't sound like such a good idea. Hardly found anything valuable, anyway. Yeah, you're probably right—it's not worth it."

"You know a salarian named Mordin Solus?" I asked. "He's supposed to have a clinic right around here."

"Yeah. It's right around the corner. Take plenty of ammo if you go that way—it's crawling with Blue Suns and vorcha."

"That guy is crazy," the second looter griped. "He'll patch up a gunshot wound for free, then kick your ass and throw you out when you try to grab a few painkillers."

"Be honest, man," the first looter replied. "You kind of had that coming." He turned back to me. "All I know is, if you go to his clinic, don't cause any trouble."

They didn't have anything else to say about the Blue Suns, the vorcha or the plague. Nothing we didn't already know, that is. "We need to get going," I said at last.

"Yeah, sure," the first looter said. "We'll just stay here for a while. Get some rest."

I gave him a look.

"Don't worry—you made your point," his partner added. "We ain't gonna steal nothing."

Ignoring the urge to correct his grammar, I left the apartment and headed for Mordin's clinic. "Don't say it," I said as we walked down the corridor.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Kasumi replied innocently.

"I know what you're thinking."

"Right," Miranda said.

"I know it's a bit hypocritical to lecture those guys about looting."

"Uh huh." That was Jacob.

"Especially when I do that all the time."

"I just thought you didn't like competition," Zaeed suggested.

"Gee, thanks. That makes me feel _so _much better."

"No charge, Shepard." **(6)**

* * *

><p><em>(1): A discrete, ruthless and well-organized mercenary outfit founded in 2160, the Blue Suns have forces that conduct operations throughout the galaxy. I personally ran into them on several occasions, including the investigation that first introduced me to Saren Arterius—twenty years before the events in this series of logs. <em>

_(2): Elcor communication is extremely subtle, relying primarily on scent, extremely slight body movements and subvocalized infrasound frequencies. To prevent misunderstandings amongst other species, elcor add emotive prefixes to all their dialogue. _

_(3): Shepard conveniently fails to mention that he, like most Alliance marines, cut their hair to regulation-length, which is short enough to avoid hair mussing. _

_(4): Vorcha contain clusters of non-differentiated cells that confer limited regenerative abilities and the capacity to adapt to whatever environmental conditions—ranging from cuts and burns to poisonous atmospheres and high gravity—they encounter. Incidentally, this ability to adapt as individuals has the side-effect of eliminating the need for the vorcha to evolve as a species. _

_(5): The prolific reproductive rate of vorcha, coupled with their short lifespan of twenty years and an aggression rivalled only by the krogan, led to constant war on their homeworld and the stripping of its resources over successive generations. As a result, vorcha society remains extremely primitive, even today. They have only been able to spread throughout the galaxy by stowing away on ships that happened to land on their homeworld or getting recruited by the Blood Pack, a mercenary group of krogan that sought to augment their forces by literally beating vorcha 'recruits' into soldiers. As a result, they are widely regarded as pests, savages, vermin or borderline sentients._

_(6): After reading and editing countless logs, I was starting to wonder if any of Shepard's associates were going to call him out on his... habit. _


	7. Bullets and Other Remedies

**Chapter 7: Bullets and Other Remedies**

We knew we were at Mordin's clinic when we saw a mixture of human guards and LOKI mechs. For once, the organic guards were more talkative than their synthetic counterparts, warning us not to try any funny business unless we wanted to tangle with the mechs. After all we'd been through, a handful of mechs and a couple guards who didn't regenerate would be a very nice change of pace. I managed to keep my mouth shut, though. We were trying to get Mordin to join us, and shooting the hired help would probably make a very poor first impression.

I tried making some conversation with the staff, patients and refugees inside the clinic, but they weren't interested in talking all that much. Which meant I got bored. So I started looking for stuff to loot.

I know, I know, looting from clinics doesn't look good. But it's not like I took anything they needed. Swiping meds, surgical equipment and that sort of thing—yeah, that's pretty low. Grabbing a couple packs of medi-gel was borderline, but we were probably going to run into more hostiles before this was all over, and every bad guy we faced meant one less to cause trouble for the clinic. It was easier to rationalize swiping the refined packs of minerals—I mean, why would anyone here need palladium or platinum?

There was also a schematic for a hardsuit microscanner upgrade, one that could dispense medi-gel to heal our wounds more efficiently. While I struggled to copy it, I overheard the receptionist behind me calling out to Mordin. "Professor—we're running low on cipoxidin."

"Use malanarin. Plenty on hand. Almost as good," a voice—presumably Mordin's—responded at a rapid-fire pace. "Causes cramping in batarians. Supplement with butemerol."

"Malanarin and butemerol. Got it."

So did I, I thought with satisfaction, as I finally uploaded a copy of that microscanner schematic. I followed the conversation I'd heard earlier to another room. It was easy to figure out which one was Mordin—there were only three people in the room. We just had to look for the salarian. Mordin looked busy though, so I spent the next minute convincing myself that no one would miss a couple power cells, iridium or eezo. I had a bit more difficulty with swiping a pack of medi-gel, but I told myself that you never know when you'd need to revive another sick plague victim.

Meanwhile, Mordin was patching up a patient while talking to himself. Sounded like he was weighing the merits of different medication: "Cenozine is the catalyst. Bonds to genetic markers. Hard to find. Expensive to mass produce. Why not heplacore? No. Too unstable. Inconsistent results. Demozane better option. No. Demozane toxic to humans. Not an option. Not an option."

At last, Mordin paused for breath. "Professor Mordin Solus?" I asked before he could go off again.

Most people say 'Yeah, that's me' or 'Who's asking?' Mordin walked up, scanned me with my omni-tool and looked at the results. "Hmm," he said. "Don't recognize you from area. Too well-armed to be refugees. No mercenary uniform. Quarantine still in effect."

Back in high school, I had an English teacher who was renowned for talking really, really fast. Since then, I'd met some salarians who could rival her speed. Mordin blew them all out of the water.

"Here for something else. Vorcha? Crew to clean them out? Unlikely. Vorcha a symptom, not a cause."

Something told me he was the kind of guy who made differentials and diagnoses by verbally listing possibilities and eliminating them one by one.

"The plague? Investigating possible use as a bio-weapon? No. Too many guns, not enough data equipment. Soldiers, not scientists. Yes, yes, yes!"

Call it a hunch.

"Hired guns, maybe? Looking for someone? Yes! But who? Someone important. Valuable. Someone with secrets. Someone like... me."

"Relax, Mordin," I finally said, raising a hand. "My name is Commander Shepard, and I came here to find you. I'm on a critical mission and I need your help."

"Mission? What mission? No. Too busy. Clinic understaffed. Plague spreading too fast. Who sent you?"

I answered his last question once my mind caught up with what I'd just heard. "Ever hear of an organization called Cerberus?"

Mordin had reached down to pick some piece of equipment up. He slowly got back to his feet and put the doohickey down. "Crossed paths on occasion. Thought they only worked with humans. Why request salarian aid?"

"The Collectors are kidnapping entire human populations. I'm trying to find out why and stop them, along with whoever's willing to help. That's Cerberus right now. And you, I hope." I worded that last part deliberately, trying to make it clear that while we had mutual goals, I wasn't part of Cerberus.

Mordin scratched his chin. "Collectors? Interesting. Plague hitting these slums is engineered. Collectors one of few groups with technology to design it. Our goals may be similar."

That's more like it.

"But must stop plague first. Already have a cure. Need to distribute it at environmental control centre. Vorcha guarding it. Need to kill them."

And there's the catch.

"Just once," I said plaintively, "I'd like to ask someone for help and hear them say 'Sure. Let's go. Right now. No strings attached.'"

"Life is a negotiation," Mordin smiled. "We all want. We all give to get what we want."

The vents above us chose that moment to shut down. I'm pretty sure none of us wanted that.

"What the hell was that?" Jacob asked.

"Vorcha have shut down environmental systems," Mordin replied. "Trying to kill everyone. Need to get power back on before district suffocates. Here, take plague cure. Also, bonus in good faith—weapons from dead Blue Suns mercs. May come in handy against vorcha."

He handed over a vial of liquid as well as a handful of heavy pistols. Carnifex Hand Cannons, according to the label. The weapons interface of my hardsuit immediately scanned it and told me that they'd be better than the pistols we were currently using, so I distributed it throughout my squad.

"One more thing."

Seriously? Isn't battling through hordes of ravenous vorcha to insert some cure and turn the fans back on hard enough already?

"Daniel," Mordin said, missing, or choosing to ignore, the look of exasperation on my face. "One of my assistants. Went into vorcha territory. Looking for victims." He finally took a breath before finishing, "Hasn't come back."

"If I see him, I'll do what I can to help," I nodded.

"Thank you. Told him not to go. But he's smart. Bright future. I hope."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

Mordin shook his head. His reply came out even faster, if that was possible. "No. Heard infected batarians trapped behind vorcha lines. Daniel went to help. Warned him not to go. Too dangerous. Patients need him here. Snuck out anyway. Wanted to find him myself. Can't leave the clinic. Have to look after the patients."

I remembered the batarian we'd met earlier, the one I gave some medi-gel to. "I found a batarian plague victim near the entrance to the neighbourhood. Can you send someone to help him?"

"Hmm," Mordin considered. "Risky. Blue Suns, vorcha still battling. District not secure. See what I can do."

I started tinkering with my new heavy pistol. As I inserted a warp ammo mod, I asked Mordin a few questions. Just to pass the time, you know. "I heard you had some trouble earlier. With the Blue Suns?"

"Nothing major. Blue Suns came for humans. Made threats. Killed them before things escalated."

"For a doctor, you're awfully calm about taking out a bunch of mercs."

"Wasn't always a doctor. Some work with salarian Special Tasks Group. Can handle myself." He pulled out a pistol to demonstrate. "Advantage of being salarian," he added, putting it away. "Turian, krogan, vorcha all obvious threats. Never saw me coming."

Well if I needed any proof that Mordin had some spec-ops training, that sealed the deal. **(1)**

"What can you tell me about this plague?"

"Advanced design. Suspected Collectors before you mentioned them. Purpose seems experimental. Destroys respiratory systems with harmful genetic mutations. Makes sense to avoid humans. Unnecessary to force mutation on human genetic structure for sake of variance."

"'Unnecessary mutations?'" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Possible goal of virus," Mordin replied matter-of-factly. "Testing viable mutation levels in various species. Horrific, but feasible for Collectors. Humans known to have diverse genetic background. Wider range than other sapient races. Makes sense as control group."

"And the environmental control centre where we can distribute the cure is being guarded by vorcha? What do you know about them?"

"Cowardly, opportunistic scavengers," he scowled. "Not tactical or aggressive. Scale of attack unusual for them. Suspected vorcha working for someone like Collectors. Distributing plague, gathering data. No proof. But theory fits evidence."

Okay. I think I'd gotten enough out of him. My brain couldn't handle processing any more of his babble. I needed to save some brain power for the vorcha. "Let's head for the environmental plant."

"Yes. Good. Release cure. Restore power. Will be here when you return."

* * *

><p>Mordin made it sound so simple. Go out. Fix things. Come back. Easy.<p>

I remembered that when we left the clinic, went round the corner and saw a couple dozen vorcha. Thankfully, they didn't see me. I hastily duck back into the corridor and motioned for the squad to stop. Quickly, I filled them in on what I'd seen.

Miranda immediately went to work analyzing the situation. I swear I could hear the gears in her head go 'click-click-click.' "It seems like the Blood Pack have taken over more territory than anyone had thought," she said. "Zaeed and someone else should take cover by the entrance and lay down covering fire while the rest go inside. Once everyone's found cover, we can start taking them down."

I nodded in agreement. "Miranda, you stay with Zaeed. You'll have a better vantage point to use your abilities and direct our fire. I'll lead Jacob and Kasumi inside."

Before I led them into yet another dangerous situation, I tried to take one of the vorcha out with my sniper rifle. I blasted through his armour and dealt significant damage to him, only to see him start to regenerate. Stifling a curse, I sent a plasma bolt his way and charged frantically for the nearest cover. Behind me, I could hear Miranda and Zaeed firing away.

As Jacob and Kasumi joined me, I saw that my little pyrotechnic display finished the job. One down and all that. I looked at my ad-hoc team and counted to three with my fingers. On three, we popped out of hiding and opened fire. From what I could hear, everyone—even 'civvies' like Miranda and Kasumi—were firing in short bursts rather than go full automatic. That would conserve our ammo, not to mention keep the weapons recoil down. As a result, I wasn't surprised to see ten or eleven vorcha dead on the ground within a couple minutes.

The rest of the vorcha were much more reluctant to engage us. At first, I thought they were just exercising caution after we'd taken out half of their forces. I was even considering sending Miranda and Zaeed into the room to try and flush them out, or at least flank them.

Then I saw three vorcha move forward and into cover, with two more vorcha right behind them.

And a krogan.

"Miranda," I radioed.

"Tag-team the krogan on your mark." Miranda must have read my mind.

"On three," I confirmed. "One, two..."

On three, the krogan was hit with a combination of biotic power and good ol' fashioned superheated plasma. Naturally it didn't kill him. That would be too easy. But it did melt through his armour.

Jacob immediately enveloped him in a biotic field and levitated him off the ground. As the krogan twirled helplessly, Jacob laughed. "Gravity's one mean mother, ain't it?" he taunted.

I would have laughed, had I not realized that the krogan was floating towards us. Once the biotic field wore off, if the krogan was still alive, we'd be in serious trouble. "Miranda, Zaeed; prioritize fire on any threats," I immediately ordered. "Everyone else, take out the krogan."

The three of us immediately filled the krogan with lead. I finished things off with another plasma round before turning my attention back to the vorcha. That was pretty much how I handled things during this round of combat—directing fire, firing the odd burst of weapons fire and spamming plasma rounds at every opportunity. In this age of limited ammunition, a self-replenishing—albeit slow—source of damage was most welcome. Plus, regeneration might be great against bullets, but it does squat against fire.

As I sent a bolt of flame at another krogan, it occurred to me that I might be starting to become a pyromaniac.

The krogan staggered as my plasma bolt hit it, then got knocked on his ass as Zaeed fired off a concussive round. Somehow, I didn't feel too guilty about finishing him off while he was down on the ground. Probably because I was busy ducking behind cover, waiting for the next wave of vorcha.

Which never came. Cautiously, I poked my head up and looked around. Nothing.

We waited a minute. Still nothing. We looked at each other in confusion.

"Maybe one of us should scout ahead," Miranda suggested. "See if anyone's coming."

"I'll go," Jacob volunteered.

As much as I liked having someone _else _go into the dragon's maw, it wouldn't look very good for my rep. Besides, I had my cloak, so I could always pull a vanishing act if I needed it. "Thanks Jacob, but I've got this one," I said. "Gotta use this cloak sometime."

Jacob shrugged his acknowledgement and hunkered back down behind cover. I snuck out, darted to the nearest cover and consulted my HUD. Nothing. Scampered to a nearby column. Nothing. Ran to the next one.

Heard maniacal laughing. Two targets detected on my HUD, dead ahead. Probably vorcha, given the high pitch. I was tempted to activate my cloak, just so I could sneak around and get the drop on them.

Then I saw three more contacts show up. Coming from my left. Turning in that direction, I saw a flight of stairs. A krogan was coming down, flanked by two vorcha—one of whom was toting a flamethrower.

Aw, crap.

I made a somewhat undignified dash back to the others, taking a bit of fire along the way, and reported what I found. It was only then that I realized I could have saved myself some trouble by cloaking on the way back.

"Back so soon?" Kasumi asked innocently.

"Krogan and two vorcha incoming, with another two sniggering away in a corner," I replied.

"And here I thought you missed me," she pouted.

We were interrupted by the aforementioned posse of regenerating bad boys, who picked that moment to stroll into view. All five of them. The three of us took one of the vorcha out before it had a chance to blink. Then we hit another one, forcing it back under cover. Meanwhile, Miranda and Zaeed were doing a good job of distracting the krogan. They might not have killed it outright, but biotic attacks and sniper shots to the face are apparently enough to make even a krogan take pause.

"Hit the krogan?" Jacob asked.

"Not yet," I shook my head. "Take out his flunkies. I'll join you guys after distracting him."

I sent a bolt of searing plasma into his face. He roared in pain. Guess we'd finally busted through his armour. I couldn't resist the urge to fire a few submachine gun rounds at him before turning my attention to another vorcha. That guy hit the ground at the same time as the krogan. That made four bad guys down for the count.

So where was the fifth one?

A burst of flame answered my question. We all staggered back, flailing madly. Logically, I knew my hardsuit could stand a little heat. Apparently my gut hadn't gotten the memo. After what seemed like an eternity in the inferno, the vorcha lifted his claw off the trigger of his flamethrower. The fires sputtered away and he squinted, leaning towards us to see if he'd gotten any of us.

I decided to return the favour, fighting fire with fire. Mine was bigger. Okay, it wasn't, but it was definitely more effective. And lethal.

After a quick round to scoop up extra thermal clips and loot, we made our way up the stairs and down a corridor. We could've taken a right, but the panicked cries from an open door on the left changed our minds. Carefully peeking around the corner, I saw a trio of batarians holding a human at gunpoint.

"Please, I'm telling you the truth," the man begged. "I work for Mordin at the clinic. I came here to help you."

Guess we found Mordin's assistant. Just in the nick of time, too.

"We know you're spreading the plague virus," one of them hissed. He was the one holding Daniel by his collar and pointing a gun in his face. "We saw the vials in your bag."

Daniel shook his head violently in denial. Either that, or the batarian was shaking him. "No! Those vials contain the cure. Please... you have to believe me."

This was going to get ugly real soon. I motioned for the others to move in. "Maybe we should cut off your fingers," the batarian hissed as we entered the room. "That should loosen your—"

"Look out!" one of the other batarians yelled out. The first one shoved Daniel aside. Then he realized he'd just sacrificed a human shield and belatedly pointed his gun at him. "Don't move!" he barked. "One more step and we'll kill your friend!"

"I know you're scared," I said soothingly. "Of the vorcha. Of the plague. But this man isn't to blame. If he was spreading the virus, why would he come into vorcha territory? They're immune."

The batarian who'd first noticed us frowned. "He's right. It doesn't make any sense."

The ringleader thought about it for a minute before grunting in acknowledgement. The fact that I had four other armed men and women backing me up probably helped. "If we release the prisoner, we can go?"

"You have my word on it," I nodded.

Slowly, the batarian lowered his pistol. "Let him go." As his companions complied, he turned towards me. "You got what you wanted, human. Are we free to go?"

"We had a deal," I agreed, holstering my pistol.

The batarians looked surprised. "Human nobility," the ringleader harrumphed. "I didn't know such a thing existed." **(2)**

"Learn new things every day," I shrugged, stepping aside so they could leave. Daniel shuffled forward once they were gone. "Thank you," he said. "I thought they were going to... to kill me. Did Mordin send you to find me?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "He could really use your help right now: too many patients, not enough volunteers. Go back to the clinic. We'll handle delivering the cure."

"Yeah, okay," Daniel licked his lips nervously. "I'll go right away. Thanks again. I owe you... well... everything."

* * *

><p>It didn't take long before we bumped into another pack of vorcha. They opened fire as soon as they saw us. Unfortunately for them, we had gotten the drop on them, and we didn't wait to fire in self-defence. After we finished them off, we moved into a large courtyard. The entrance to the environmental control centre was situated one level down in a building at the other end. Of course, there were lots of vorcha milling around down there for us to fight through.<p>

The vorcha toting rocket launchers on the balcony of that building didn't help.

I didn't need to tell my squad to concentrate fire on the vorcha trying to blow us up. Zaeed occasionally sprayed some rounds down at the other vorcha to keep them from climbing the stairs and flanking us. Otherwise, we contented ourselves with whittling down their heavy support, one howling vorcha at a time.

While huddling behind some cover, I pricked my ears and listened. Over the next few minutes, I heard the hiss of rockets flying by and the dull thunder as they exploded. Gradually, I got a sense of where the closest rocket guys were and how long it took them to reload. Then I cloaked, lifted my sniper rifle, breathed out and aimed.

With a gentle press on the trigger, a shot rang out. I ducked back down, automatically repressing the urge to grin. That sort of unprofessional behaviour gets a sniper killed, after all. One down, but there were still plenty to go. Still, this was the sort of combat I preferred. **(3)**

And boy did I get a lot of it. Plenty of targets to scope and drop. Didn't take long before we finished off the heavies and started dealing with the troopers on the ground below. "I'll kill you," I heard one of them snarl defiantly. I chose to let my sniper rifle reply for me.

Just before I dove for cover, I noticed a vorcha on the stairs. He was dancing up a couple steps, then back down, as if he was trying to get a clear shot on us. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

Down for the count, courtesy of a well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and yours truly. Guy should have varied his pattern a little. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

I looked around, but there were no more targets. Good thing—I was almost out of clips for my sniper rifle. I mean, I might have had to resort to another weapon like my submachine gun or *gasp* my _pistol_. Thankfully there were lots of spare thermal clips lying around.

We met a trio of vorcha as soon as we entered the environmental control centre, backed by a krogan. Unfortunately for them, Miranda and I took turns hitting the lead merc with biotics and plasma fire. That effectively turned him into one big barrier, preventing his buddies from moving towards us and getting a clear shot. My squad didn't have that problem, though.

Miranda looked around once we were in the clear. "Judging by the layout, I'd say we're getting close to the core."

"Then we're almost at the environmental controls?" Jacob asked. She nodded. "Good. Let's get that cure in, then we can hit the fans."

"I'll stay on point," I said without thinking. Great, I just volunteered to be the first guy the bad guys could fire at. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now.

There was another group of vorcha inside the core room. This batch was a bit more talkative. Well, their leader was.

"Yarrgh! You no come here. We shut down machines, break fans!"

I don't think English was his first language.

"Everyone choke and die!" the vorcha snarled. "Then Collectors make us strong!"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Collectors want plague! You work for doctor, turn on machines, stop plague."

Good guess. So much for the stereotype of vorcha being nothing but mindless animals.

"We kill you first!"

Naturally.

Everyone scattered for the closest spot of cover. Downside, it left us spread out, with me stuck all alone behind a console. On the upside, it meant they wouldn't be able to take us out in one spot.

As I joined my squad in shooting at the vorcha, I noticed one of them was packing a flamethrower. I remembered how that Wilson guy managed to spark a bunch of canisters into blowing up by overloading their control systems. "Miranda," I shouted. "Flamethrower incoming. Overload it."

My hunch paid off. Miranda's pulse ignited the flamethrower—incinerating the vorcha toting it—and set another vorcha on fire in the process. "Yes!" she cheered.

The other vorcha temporarily halted their fire, taken off guard by the unexpected explosion. Some of them even forgot to stay in cover. Zaeed was the first to take advantage of the situation with a concussive round. Not to be left out, the rest of us were quick to follow. Before long, there was only one lone vorcha left. He didn't have a chance to use his rocket launcher against us, as Kasumi snuck up behind him while cloaked and got the drop on him.

I glanced around. This place was pretty big, and I didn't think we had time to leisurely search around. I reached up and activated my comm. "EDI," I said. "You there?"

"Yes, Shepard."

I quickly gave it a sitrep. "Can you scan the area and figure out where we need to go?"

"One moment," it replied. "The central control console is located within an alcove in the centre of the back wall. You can inject the cure and re-initialize the systems there. However, you will then have to go to each of the fan controls and turn them on manually."

"And they are where, exactly?"

"Please stand by."

Wonderful.

Biting back a complaint on how life wasn't fair, I led the squad over to the console EDI indicated, found a slot that seemed to fit the cartridge that the cure was sloshing around in and hit the power button. As the machinery hummed to life, Jacob grinned for the first time. "Once we get the fans going, we should be good."

Five or six vorcha charged in at that moment, guns blazing. Once again, we scattered, lunging for the nearest refuge. Zaeed leaned out long enough to fire a burst. "Taylor," Zaeed snapped as he ducked back, "you're lucky your boss paid me a shitload in advance. Otherwise, I'd tack on extra for that remark."

"Hazard pay?" I called out, letting loose a shot of my own.

"Something like that."

EDI picked that moment to inform me that it had completed its scan. "I have located the fan controls, Shepard. There are two, one on either side of the room you are in."

Great timing. "Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"You are welcome."

We'd gotten into a rhythm by now, so we were able to keep the vorcha pinned down. As they started dropping one by one, I took a moment to consult my HUD. Aside from the ones trying to riddle us with holes, it looked like there were two more. Where were they?

I looked to my left. Nope. Same with the right. It was when I looked up that I saw a pair of vorcha, each with a rocket launcher. They didn't realize that I'd spotted them, so it was easy for me to take them out with my sniper rifle, one at a time. Okay, okay—so the second one ducked and I had to wait until he poked his head out again. I still got him, and that's what counts. Right?

Now we could head to the fan controls. They were located at the end of a long corridor, in the same direction as the alcove where I'd popped the plague cure in. Each of them were accessible via a number of staircases.

Operating on a hunch, I chose the stairs farthest away from the fan control. Sure enough, there were a dozen vorcha guarding the entrance. My selection meant that they would have to run down the entire length of the corridor before they could reach us.

Unless they were smart and took the stairs to sneak up and around, thus getting the drop on us. But they didn't. As we opened fire, I noticed that a couple of them had flamethrowers. "Miranda?"

She was already priming her omni-tool. "Open a hole in that armour and I'll take care of the rest," she grinned.

Between the fire-lane that the corridor conveniently funnelled all the vorcha into, the distance between us and them, and the plan that we'd honed over hours of combat, it didn't take long before we cleared them out. Motioning for them to cover me, I entered the fan control room and reset the breakers.

"One down, one to go," Jacob smiled.

Naturally, more vorcha showed up. As we split up and took cover behind pillars on either side of the corridor, I raised an eyebrow at the ex-Alliance marine. He shrugged. "Just trying to stay positive," Jacob flashed a grin.

"Noted," I replied. "Kudos for keeping squad morale up."

"Now let's finish them off," Miranda added, sending a ball of biotic energy sizzling at the closest vorcha. Good thing too. That one was only a few metres away when Miranda's attack sent it hurtling into the wall. Time to get serious.

The squad quickly fell into a rhythm. Zaeed, Miranda and I took down anything coming down the right side of the corridor, while Jacob and Kasumi did the same on the left. Once we had some breathing room, I would sneak up under cover of cloak and lay down covering fire. The prospect of being attacked by an invisible man kept the vorcha back long enough for the others to leapfrog forward, two at a time. This way, we managed to keep the pressure on them and slowly make our way towards the stairs.

We were almost there when I noticed that Kasumi was firing at someone above us. Jacob's shotgun couldn't reach that far, so he was watching the corridor and covering her. I followed her gaze.

A krogan was coming down the stairs. Big one, too. Well, they're all big so that's not saying much. Maybe he seemed big because I was closer to him, and the others were at least five metres behind me.

I fired a shot with my sniper rifle, hoping to take him down. Instead, I just gouged a nice deep furrow in his helmet. He laughed at me and lifted his shotgun. "Why don't you take a look at a real man's weapon," he taunted.

Aw, crap.

I didn't bother opening my mouth to answer. Probably for the best. Under the circumstances, all I'd have been able to do was gibber incoherently. Instead, I sent a round of plasma off from my omni-tool. Judging by the flares and sharp flashes, my plasma fire was accompanied by another of Miranda's biotic displays and a heck of a lot of gunfire.

Jacob took the opportunity to lift the krogan up in the air, where we could shoot him like some giant piñata. I waited until my omni-tool generated another charge of plasma, then set him on fire.

While the krogan plopped to the ground, courtesy of my 'real man's weapon,' we headed up the stairs. The plan was to cross the ventilation control room and head down the stairs to the corridor leading to the other fan control.

That plan worked right up 'till the quartet of rockets whistled our way.

I waited before we'd all found cover before issuing orders. "Zaeed, help me take out the rocket launchers. Everyone else, make sure no one comes up those stairs."

Zaeed and I had fun returning rockets with sniper rounds. We were more accurate. Not that the vorcha weren't capable of dealing some damage of their own. I'd taken out my second vorcha when I noticed that Jacob and Kasumi were both lying on the ground.

My stomach dropped. When did that happen?

"Concussive wave from a rocket knocked them out," Miranda filled me in. "They're unconscious, but still breathing."

"Look out," Zaeed warned, swinging his sniper rifle over.

I followed Zaeed's cue and saw another krogan. The two of us fired our sniper rifles in unison, cracking his helmet. Miranda used that as an opening to generate a biotic field right over its head. I'm not going to describe the sounds I heard in too much detail. Suffice it to say that his cranial plates shifted, his skull cracked and his brain... made squishing noises.

In hindsight, that might have been too much detail.

Anyways, there was only one more vorcha to deal with after that. I quickly took him out, then ran over to check on Jacob and Kasumi. The former was already up, lifting the latter to her feet. "You guys okay?"

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Kasumi replied.

Grinning, I led the team down into the corridor. I had Jacob and Kasumi stay behind to cover our six, with Zaeed tagging along in case they were still out of it. That left Miranda and me to leapfrog down the corridor towards the fan control room.

We were rewarded for our caution by facing exactly... zero bad guys.

Typical.

* * *

><p>Once we got the second set of fans going, it was smooth sailing all the way back to the clinic. Mordin was hard at work when we returned, moving from patient to patient with incredible speed. He still had time to notice me when I arrived, though.<p>

"Environmental systems engaged," he told me. "Airborne viral levels dropping. Patients improving. Vorcha retreating. Well done, Shepard. Thank you."

"And thank you from me, as well," Daniel added, coming and dropping off some syringes. "Those batarians would have killed me."

He rubbed his brow before adding "For a second there, I thought you were going to shoot them even after they let me go."

"I made a promise to spare them if they let you go," I replied, choosing to stick to my rep. "I honour my promises."

Mordin raised an eyebrow. "Merciful of you. Risky. Would have killed them myself."

Daniel was shocked, like a kid who just learned that Santa Claus was just some big fiction propagated by commercialism. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "You're a _doctor_. You believe in _helping _people."

"Lots of ways to help people," Mordin replied matter-of-factly. "Sometimes heal patients. Sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps." He saw that Daniel wasn't buying it. "Go check on the patients. Lots of work to do. Think about what I said."

His assistant reluctantly obeyed, shaking his head as he left. Mordin sighed once he'd left the room. "Good kid. Bit naive. He'll learn. Letting him take over the clinic. Should be able to handle it now that vorcha are gone."

"And now that the plague's been cured," I added. "Are you ready to help stop the Collectors?"

"Yes," Mordin said. "Unexpected to be working with Cerberus. Many surprises. Just need to finish up here at the clinic. Won't take long. Met you at your ship. Looking forward to it."

I said my goodbyes and headed out. We were almost at the entrance to the clinic when a batarian stumbled to his feet. It was the one I'd given some medi-gel to earlier. Guess Mordin sent some people to find him after all.

"I... I know you," he said slowly. "From the apartment. You found me. You told Mordin about me, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"You... you saved my life. I... didn't expect that."

"The last time I saw you, you were too weak to move. How'd you get here?" I asked.

"Two of Mordin's assistants found me," he said. "They administered a cure, then watched over me until I was stable enough to move. They were human, but... they risked their lives to find me and bring me to safety."

"Can't blame you for sounding skeptical," I shrugged. "It's not as if our two species have ever gotten along. Still, there's an old human saying: 'Don't judge a book by its cover.'" **(4)**

That chestnut's a bit archaic, but the batarian seemed to get the gist of it. "I was wrong about you, human," he admitted. "I was wrong about a lot of things."

"So what'll you do now?"

"I think I'll stay here," he replied. "Help these humans out. I owe you, and them, my life. This is how I can return the favour."

That's one way to pass the time, I guess.

* * *

><p>True to his word, Mordin arrived about a half hour after the squad got back to the Normandy. Jacob and I met him in the comm room.<p>

"Welcome to the Normandy, Professor" Jacob greeted him. "It's an honour to have you on board."

"Yes. Very exciting," Mordin replied. His head was constantly moving about as he took in his surroundings. "Cerberus working with aliens. Unexpected. Illusive Man branching out, maybe? Not so human-centric?"

"You're very well-informed," I complimented him.

Mordin waved it off. "Salarian government well-connected. Espionage experts. Had top-level clearance once. Retired now. Still, hear things. Informed of name only. No knowledge of man behind it. Anti-alien reputation listed as... problematic."

I laughed. "Don't kid yourself, Professor. Humans still come first in the Illusive Man's eyes. But this mission is too big for them to handle alone. Hence dragging me out here to gather up people like you."

"As we explained in your clinic, the Collectors are abducting human colonists out on the fringes of Terminus Space," Jacob explained.

Mordin shook his head. "Not simple abductions. Wouldn't need me for simple."

"Entire colonies disappear without a trace," Jacob elaborated. "No distress signals are sent out. There are no signs of any kind of attack. There is virtually no evidence that anything unusual happened at all... except that every man, woman and child is gone."

Mordin immediately started brainstorming out loud. "Gas, maybe?" No. Spreads too slow. Airborne virus? No—slower than gas. Drugged water supply? No—effects not simultaneous."

I raised a hand to stop him. "You don't have to sit there and guess. We collected samples from one of the colonies. I'd like you to analyze them, figure out how the Collectors did this, and devise a countermeasure."

"Yes. Of course. Analyze the samples." He was halfway to the door before pausing. "Going to need a lab."

"There is a fully equipped lab on the combat deck, Professor Solus," EDI informed him. "If you find anything lacking, please place a requisition order."

Mordin looked around, trying to find the source of EDI's voice. Not seeing it, and not knowing what we knew, he started speculating out loud again. "Who's that? Pilot? No. Synthesized voice. Simulated emotional inflections. Could it be... no. Maybe. Have to ask: is that an AI?"

Okay. That was impressive. "This ship is equipped with an artificial intelligence," I confirmed.

"An AI on board? Non-human crew members? Cerberus more desperate than I thought," Mordin deduced.

"The Collectors have taken tens of thousands of colonists," Jacob said. "We'll do whatever we have to do to find and stop them."

"Yes," Mordin nodded. "Of course. Can't risk being captured like colonists. Need to identify, neutralize technology. Need samples. Which way to the lab?"

"Follow me, Professor," Jacob grinned.

* * *

><p>I left Jacob to escort Mordin to the tech lab while I headed for my quarters. Had to catch up on e-mail and all. Plus, I had fish to feed.<p>

About a half hour later, I left to go harass everyone. It didn't take long before I made my way down to Deck 3. Gardner called me over with a grin on his face. "Commander! Those provisions you provided were perfect. I owe you."

"Just whip up some of those decent meals you were promising and we'll call it even," I waved it off.

"Actually, I've already thrown together some of my calamari gumbo. Wanna try a bite?"

"Sure."

Gardner turned around, scooped a ladle of gumbo from a pot behind him and passed it to me. I took a bite.

Wow. That was good. That was _damn _good. I told him as much.

Gardner leaned over and whispered "Truth be told, it's based on an asari recipe. Seems a little cannibalistic to me with their tentacle heads and all, but they know good grub."

"You could say eating ribs is cannibalistic, what with our rib cages," I shrugged. "Or chicken thighs or legs—we may not have feathers, but we do have everything else."

"Huh." Gardner rocked back on his heels. "Never thought of it that way."

"Well, now you have," I said, finishing off the gumbo with relish. "I know we're supposed to be saving humanity and all that, but that doesn't mean the other species aren't worth caring about. If they can inspire good grub like this, they can't be all bad, right?"

"Got a point there, Commander," Gardner conceded. "Anyways, thanks again for those provisions. You really came through."

I continued on my rounds, chatting with Miranda and a couple other crewmen. Dr. Chakwas had recovered from our impromptu round of drinks, so I stopped in to check on her as well.

"Commander, bringing me that ice brandy was above and beyond. Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

"I very much enjoyed sharing it with you," she added, "but I hope I wasn't too unprofessional. Brandy goes straight to my head."

"You weren't that bad," I reassured her. "Besides, it's nice to see you let your hair down."

"Guess I hadn't realized how much those feelings needed airing," she admitted. "But I didn't give you much of a chance to vent. So tell me now—what do you think?"

I wouldn't have minded telling her the truth. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. But there were all those annoying bugs floating around. With all the ones I found in my quarters, there was no telling how many of them might be hiding around sickbay. Besides, Dr. Chakwas herself said that she needed an 'immovable centre.' That meant sticking to my heroic rep, not burdening her with the truth.

"We've been spaced, reassigned, abandoned and now we're sleeping with the enemy," I shrugged. "None of that matters, though—everyone's depending on us. We won't let them down."

Dr. Chakwas shook her head in admiration. "They just don't make them like you anymore, Shepard."

"That's 'cuz they can't afford the price tag or the time," I said dryly.

She laughed. "Well, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

In other words, she suspected that I might not have 'fessed up to everything, but I wasn't showing signs of cracking up so she'd respect my privacy. I always liked that about her. She knew when to let things slide and when to stand her ground.

"Yeah, I know," I said before heading for the door.

"Commander?"

"Yeah?" I paused and turned halfway back.

"Promise me we'll share a bottle every year."

That sounded like the kind of promise worth keeping. "Done."

"The next one is on me."

"All right."

* * *

><p>I thought I'd check in on Ken and Gabby in Engineering. See how the new couplings I got them were doing.<p>

"I heard Rupert's actually cooking some good meals lately," I heard Gabby say as I walked in.

"Yeah, right," Ken snorted. "That scunner couldn't serve a good haggis if his life depended on it."

"Well, all haggis tastes like ass, anyways."

"Aye," Ken admitted. "But in the right hands, it can taste like mighty fine ass."

Then he noticed me. He turned around, beaming from ear to ear. "You're the best, Commander. We just got those FBA couplings installed. Now we only have to calibrate every week instead of every day."

"Glad to hear they worked out for you," I nodded.

"You know, we were thinking about celebrating our newfound free time with some Skyllian-Five poker. Want to join us?"

"Come on, Kenneth," Gabby interjected. "The commander doesn't want to play cards with grease monkeys like us."

Not an unreasonable assumption. It's rare for officers to mix with NCOs, command crew to mix with everyone else, and so forth. Mostly to maintain that level of respect and authority. But hey, I was bored. **(5) **

"Actually, that sounds interesting. As long as everything is running smoothly right now."

"They are," Gabby confirmed.

Ken looked positively ecstatic, practically bouncing on his feet. "Fantastic. I'll get the cards."

"My Skyllian-Five's a bit rusty," I lied, faking a nervous look. Well, mostly faking—I had been out of the game for two-plus years. "You'll be easy on the rookie, right?"

"Of course, Commander," Ken reassured me. "It's all friendly."

"Yeah, right," Gabby said.

Each of us bet 300 credits. I purposely folded in the first round, just to confirm my sense of the other players. I could have saved myself the trouble. Ken was an open book. Competent player, but he was way too easy to read. No poker face whatsoever. I got the sense that Gabby was probably a better player, if she wasn't so fixated on beating her fellow engineer. It's no surprise that, within a half hour, I'd completely cleaned Ken out. Gabby didn't fare much better, only coming away with a third of her original stake.

As I scooped up my winnings, Ken put the cards away. He seemed a bit disgusted with himself. "'Be gentle on the rookie?' I can't believe we fell for that."

"It's so worth losing to see you taken down a notch," Gabby teased.

"You beat me at my own game," Ken shook his head. "You're all right, Shepard."

"So... same time next week?" I suggested.

We shared a good laugh at that.

* * *

><p>I bumped into Zaeed on my way to the elevator. "What brings you down here, Shepard?"<p>

"Just walking around, seeing how everyone's doing," I shrugged. I decided not to mention that we'd played a few hands in Engineering. Not that I wanted to exclude him. But if Zaeed decided to play, he might win using sheer intimidation, and the engineers had lost enough money this week. "You?"

"Going to the can."

"Ah."

"We heading out soon?" Zaeed asked.

"Once the squad catches a bit of shut-eye," I confirmed. "Got another potential recruit on Omega. Guy named Archangel. You hear of him?"

"Some vigilante who's makin' trouble for all the mercs on Omega," Zaeed said. "Sounds like we both want the same thing."

"And that is?"

"A lot of mercs dead."

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You do realize that some people would call you a merc as well."

"Way I see it, main obstacle between me and my bounties are other mercs. The fewer of them around, the easier my job is," he replied frankly. "Besides, most of them are scum. Yeah, there's the odd merc who's decent and all, but most of them are sick bastards. Ain't personal, really."

"Just business," I concluded.

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>I spent a good deal of time in the tech lab, which was finally open. There were two doors that could access it, both near the bow of the ship. A couple terminals were conveniently situated there as well, allowing me to research new upgrades-for my squad or the Normandy-or look up what upgrades I'd already researched. So long as I had enough minerals to build a prototype, EDI could run some simulations, make any corrections and order the ship's fabrication systems to mass-produce and install those upgrades in the appropriate weapons, omni-tools or hardsuits . Not that there were a lot of upgrades available—at the moment, I was still missing a few key pieces of software or hardware. Still, some is better than nothing.<p>

A bunch of counters or benches were built into the port side of the lab, each with a few pieces of fancy-looking equipment on them. Scanning electron microscope, anoxic containment chamber, tissue culture incubators, that sort of thing. The aft wall held an empty bookshelf, a maintenance hatch and a window that looked down into Engineering-specifically the drive core. A lot of rooms in the Normandy had windows that offered a view of the drive core. Yeah, it was _that_ big. Kinda looked like EDI's avatar, come to think of it.

The starboard side boasted a small desk, covered with reference books and manuals. Another bench lay in the centre of the lab, with more equipment and tubes. Mordin was standing there working away on some experiment, with at least three or four others running concurrently. After a few minutes, I walked over to talk to him. Just to see how he was settling in.

"Is the lab working well for you?" I asked.

"Very satisfactory," Mordin nodded. "Impressive laboratory setup. Missed working for operations with a budget. AI in particular very helpful. Best setup I've seen since work with Special Tasks Group."

"Must've been a change from working in the clinic," I said. "It must have been frustrating working in such a limited facility."

"No!" Mordin shook his head. "Loved it! Limited facility presented _challenge_. Save greatest number of people using limited resources. Security threats, gangs, mercenary groups add additional difficulty. Quite enjoyable. Plague stretched abilities to limit. Couldn't have asked for more.

"Also enjoy saving people, of course," he hastily added. "Helping the helpless, greater good. Nice retirement after STG work complete."

Some people like a peaceful, tranquil retirement. Clearly Mordin wasn't one of them. Probably would go stark raving bonkers if he just sat around all day. "So there aren't any problems?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Nothing significant. Found a few surveillance bugs. Destroyed most of them. Returned expensive one to Miranda. Nothing unexpected. Just need more samples. More Collector data, tissue samples. Anything you get, I can use. Find new tech."

I was reminded of Aria's warnings, and my own firsthand encounters, with Mordin's fast babble. I'd have to stay on my toes to keep up with him. Speaking of reminders, there was something I should have asked Dr. Chakwas earlier. Given Mordin's medical expertise, I decided to ask before I forgot again: "Are there any medical concerns I should be aware of on the team?"

"Cerberus personnel in excellent condition. No squad concerns to report. Always some matters, but nothing requiring immediate mission."

"Have you got a minute to talk?"

"Of course." Mordin finished what he was doing and stood up. "Plague on Omega dealt with. Analyses underway. Plenty of time to analyze Collector intelligence."

"Speaking of Omega, how's Daniel doing? Has he settled in all right?"

"Just received preliminary report from him. So far, so good. Mostly safe and secure. Neighbourhood mostly quiet with plague gone. Left him the security mechs, just in case. Can't be too careful. Also, tired of mechs. Noisy. Never used them in STG."

"What kinda stuff did you do in STG?"

"Recon, analysis, occasional wet-work. Identify problems, have neutralization options ready should need arise. Model for Council Spectres based on Special Tasks Group. Very similar."

"I'd heard about that," I admitted. "Similar in what way?"

"Salarians lack numbers, brute strength, military prowess. Have to rely on stealth, intelligence. Agents given wide operative freedom. Spectres similar—given goal, told to accomplish. STG better funded of course. Didn't have to buy our own weapons."

I somehow managed to repress a groan. That was always a pet peeve of mine—we were top covert operatives with wide discretionary powers, and yet we had to get our own weapons. We didn't even get an operational stipend—or if we did, someone had been siphoning it off.

"What did you do with the STG?" I asked. "Research?"

"Not simply research. Several recon missions. Covert, high-risk. Served under young captain named Kirrahe."

That rang a bell. "Kirrahe? I worked with an STG captain named Kirrahe. His team helped me destroy Saren's cloning facility on Virmire."

"Heard he was part of that," Mordin nodded enthusiastically. "Jury-rigged explosive? Always got job done with limited resources. Good captain. Bit of a cloaca, though. Loved his speeches. 'Hold the line!' Personally prefer to get job done and go home. Probably military bravado. Jargon, chest-pounding." He paused for the first time, perhaps realizing who he was talking to. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Anyways, studied krogan genophage. Took water, tissue samples from krogan colonies."

"What can you tell me about the genophage?" I asked. "I know it was designed by the salarians and deployed by the turians to end the Rebellions. But what else can you tell me?"

"Affects every cell of krogan body," Mordin replied promptly. "Commonly and _incorrectly_ considered a sterility plague."

"It doesn't do that?"

"Actually adjusts viable fertility rates to compensate for high krogan birthrate. Stabilizes to pre-industrial population growth levels."

"I see."

"Why would STG study the genophage?"

"Krogan Rebellions bloody, dangerous," Mordin said frankly. "Nearly as bad as rachni attacks. All species evolve, adapt, mutate. If genophage weakens, need to be prepared."

"'Prepared?' What was the STG preparing to do?" I asked warily.

"Military schematics for likely krogan population growth. Political scenarios for attack points. Genophage reduced krogan numbers. Species aggression unchecked. Population explosion would be disastrous. STG helped check Krogan Rebellions. Needed to be ready to do the same. Simple recon. Nothing to worry about."

Nice. Honest. Probably a good thing Wrex or any other krogan wasn't onboard.

"Should get back to work. Need to study. So much data."

"Yeah, about that. I was going to head back to Omega to track down another recruit. Will you be ready in an hour or so?"

"Perhaps, no wait, yes. Yes. Can run some tests again to get duplicate results. Analyses can be done later. Biometric comparisons still ongoing. Yes, available in one hour. See you then."

Huh. That was an interesting conversation. Not that I necessarily agree, but it's nice to hear the other side of the story. I'd later learn that things were a bit more complicated than Mordin initially let on. For the time being, I'd just relax for an hour. Feed the fish again, listen to some jazz.

Enjoy the calm before it's abruptly blown out of the water.

Again.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Slang for 'special operations.'<em>

_(2): Clearly they'd never met Shepard._

_(3): Readers will be familiar with Shepard's fondness for the sniper rifle, and his occasional laments on how he didn't get to use it as often as he'd have liked._

_(4): I'd tell Shepard how he was winning more hearts and minds in his own way than the entire corps of Alliance diplomats combined, but he'd just pass it off as 'just doing his job.' _

_(5): Readers are well aware that Shepard tended to disregard such conventions, without any negative impact on the level of respect or authority afforded to him. _


	8. One Archangel Wanted, Wings Optional

**Chapter 8: One Archangel Wanted, Wings Optional**

As soon as the shuttle docked, I led my squad into Omega and started shopping. Yep, there was this guy we had to recruit, one who'd gotten on the radar of every major merc group on Omega and might bite the bullet any hour now, and I was shopping. Do I know my priorities or what?

As we headed out, EDI contacted us with a status update. "Judging by the quarantine reports, the plague has been completely eradicated, Shepard."

"Good to hear," I responded.

"Dr. Solus's assistant has been helping out any patients with complications. Preliminary feedback seems very positive and complimentary."

"Excellent," Mordin beamed. "Knew he could do it."

We had just cleared the docking zone and were heading for the shops when a turian called us over.

"So, I heard a human went into the plague zone. Then I found out about a lot of dead vorcha down there. You know anything about that?"

"Dead vorcha?" I asked innocently. "Nope. Don't know anything about that."

"Uh huh," the turian said slowly. "Right."

I don't think he bought it.

"Well, my job just got a whole lot easier."

"Your job is killing vorcha?" I asked.

"I'm supposed to keep the vorcha in line," he responded. "Keep them out of Aria's sight. That's about it."

"You're Captain Gavorn," I realized. "I bumped into a couple vorcha before I went into the quarantine zone who thought I was working for you."

"Yeah, that's me," he nodded. "Not surprised they heard of me. I've been telling them that they'll only be left alone if they stay out of everyone's way, especially Aria's. They rarely listen, so then I have to lay down the hammer. Won't have to do that for a while, thanks to… whoever cleaned out the plague zone. But the way those vorcha breed, I'll have something to do soon enough."

"I'll just be going," I said.

"Keep up the good work."

* * *

><p>Didn't take long to complete my browsing. Most of the stuff was too expensive, even with the creds I'd scrounged. I did manage to find a mod that would make power cell conversion more efficient, allowing me to fire off more shots from my heavy weapon. Which was still the grenade launcher. By this point, I could have brought a missile launcher or that new-fangled arc projector instead. Given the close-quarters urban environment of Omega, though, I figured the grenade launcher would be best suited for any combat.<p>

Without any further distractions, I went to Afterlife. I was about to head up to see Aria when one of her guards, a turian, beckoned towards me.

"Aria has a job she needs doing," he said.

"And you are?"

"Name's Grizz. You're Shepard. Pleased to meet you. You up for some work?"

Straight to business, huh? All right.

"That depends on what Aria has in mind," I said, playing along for the time being.

"Aria's gotten word that some Blood Pack mercs plan to kill an old acquaintance of hers. A krogan named Patriarch. She'd like you to keep that from happening."

"What's the Blood Pack's problem with this 'Patriarch'?" I asked.

Grizz laughed. "You obviously haven't met Patriarch yet. If you had, you'd know—he can't keep his damned mouth shut. Some people don't appreciate his stories. Especially when he dips into nonfiction."

I frowned. "If he's that much of a problem, why would Aria want to protect him?"

"Patriarch was one of her deadliest enemies back in the old days. Now she keeps what's left of him around as a trophy. As long as he lives, he's a perfect example of what happens when you go up against Aria."

"Why come to me? Aria's usual muscle not up for the job," I taunted.

"Because Aria said so. What other reason do you need?"

"Oh come on," I burst out. "People like Aria don't do things without a damn good reason. I wanna hear it."

"Fine," Grizz sighed. "But I didn't tell you this. Got me?"

"Got what?"

"Exactly." Grizz looked around before spilling the beans: "If it gets out that Aria's protecting Patriarch... well, that can look like a weakness. And some people might want to exploit that. You're not on her payroll, so you helping Patriarch just seems like a random act of kindness."

Clever. She can just lean back and let some compulsive do-gooder like me protect her trophy, which would fall in line with my rep. But if anyone asks her, she can look all innocent—well, innocent for her—and claim she knew nothing. "I'll look into it," I finally agreed.

"Good," Grizz nodded. "Patriarch's downstairs, likely surrounded by his 'fans.' Get him into hiding until the mercs get bored and move on. Come back here when it's done, and you'll get your due."

It took a bit of searching, but I finally found this Patriarch. Like Grizz said, he was the one telling stories to his fans.

"Don't act like you know," he was saying. "Just plan for the funeral normally. During the service, someone will want to set up a meeting. He's in on it with whoever killed your family. You tear off a few of his fingers, you'll find out who did this to you.

"What next, you say? Say you want to hurt him and his family. Don't kill him first. If he has close family, they'll just want revenge. Kill the family first. Then he'll get angry and come at you stupid... and then you kill him."

That was when he noticed me. "Don't think I know you, human," he greeted me. "I'm the Patriarch. Aria's Patriarch. What do you want?"

"Well for starters, what do you know about Aria?" I started.

"A few centuries ago, Omega was my rock. When Aria arrived, she had nothing but the clothes on her back. I thought she was another dancer.

"Huh!" he laughed bitterly. "She killed half my men and convinced the rest that she could run this place better than I did. She came for me here in this bar. We tore this place apart. She crushed one of my hearts, shattered half the bones in my body... and left me alive."

"As an example," I said.

"Aria doesn't destroy what she can use," Patriarch confirmed. "She said I could have all my old comforts if I served as her advisor. I knew how things worked. I knew who to lean on, who to smack down, who to smile at. And everyone who respected me saw me beaten, broken. They knew that as strong as I'd been, she was stronger."

Smart. Most people would just kill their enemies as soon as possible. "Why do they call you 'Patriarch'?" I asked.

"It's like an asari matriarch, only male. It was Aria's little joke, after she took me down and let me live. A nice made-up title for her made-up advisor."

Okay, things were starting to get gloomy. I hate gloomy. People start crying when they get gloomy. "A krogan like you must know some great stories," I tried.

"I killed a lot of people, lived well, and was beaten by a small asari who keeps me around as an example," he snorted. "My time is done. Anyone I killed is long forgotten. The stories are Aria's, now."

"Rumour has it some people want you dead," I told him, moving to the main reason for my visit. "Know anything about that?"

Patriarch scratched his chin. "I can think of a few. I know things. Old secrets. Old grudges. A few floors you can dig up to find bodies underneath. Someone who wanted to weaken Aria might come after me.

"They'd do it to get to her, you see. Not for me." He paused before adding morosely "I don't matter enough anymore to have enemies of my own."

Wow. A krogan who'd given up the will to fight. Now I'd really seen everything. "I've been asked to move you to safety," I finally said.

"Of course," Patriarch said sarcastically. "Aria wouldn't want me hurt. It would make her look bad." He let a bitter grin spread over his face. "But perhaps Aria's reputation is no longer my concern. Perhaps I will stay and see who thinks me important enough to kill."

A kernel of an idea popped into my head. I blame it on the inner monkey in me that just delights in causing mischief and chaos. "You could do that," I shrugged. "But here's an idea: let me handle the assassins for you instead."

"And so your name grows while I remain an old man who lets others fight his battle," he scoffed.

"No," I disagreed. "You remain a powerful warlord with forces at his command. Not just Aria's trophy."

A look of dawning comprehension flickered to life in his eyes. "You could... you could be my krantt," he said slowly. **(1)** "Fighting for my honour. If you would do this for me, I would be grateful. I might even be a krogan again."

"Just wait right here, then," I smiled, "while your 'krantt' takes care of some business."

* * *

><p>"Planning to shake up the status quo on Omega, Shepard?" Miranda asked as we left.<p>

"Regardless of what Patriarch might have done in his day, he doesn't deserve to become someone's puppet," I replied. "Besides, now's a good time to emphasize that I'm notanother merc who'll jump at Aria's command. Especially since the Council and the Alliance already think my name is mud. I don't see any reason to give them any more ammo."

"Just as long as you don't rock the boat too much," she warned. "We have enough problems with the Collectors. We don't need to add Aria's wrath to our list of problems."

"Fair enough," I conceded.

"What are your orders, Commander?" Jacob asked.

"Miranda, take Kasumi and Jacob out the back entrance," I decided. "If you see any Blood Pack, walk by them casually and radio me when you're in the clear. The rest of us will meet them head on, and you can double back to get the jump on them from behind."

"And if no one's there, we can double round to the front entrance," Miranda said, seeing where I was going.

"Exactly," I nodded. "You guys head in, we'll head out. Hopefully we'll catch them."

We wound up carrying out Plan B. Two krogan were strolling with purpose when my team 'bumped into them.'

"Out of our way, human," one of them growled.

"You here for Patriarch," I asked. Miranda's team entered the corridor at that point, right on cue. She silently signalled that her team would tackle the krogan who hadn't talked yet, while we could handle the other one.

"What if we are," the first krogan snarled, as Miranda's team moved into position behind them. "You gonna do something about it?"

"Patriarch sent us," I declared loudly so everyone around us could hear, even over the blare of the music. "Said to do whatever it takes."

"You're Patriarch's krantt?" the krogan asked in disbelief. "I wasn't aware the old man had one!"

"You should have done your homework," I said, cracking my knuckles.

The krogan whipped up a hand-sized flamethrower and sent a narrow stream of flame in my direction. Or he tried to—idiot telegraphed his move. I was already moving, ducking down and snapping my leg to deflect his aim. While his flamethrower was busy scorching the ceiling, my squad whipped out their weapons and fired on the targets Miranda had designated. The second krogan didn't even have a chance to pull out his weapon before he and his partner dropped to the ground.

Now that that was done, the squad and I went to give Patriarch the good news. Funny thing was, he already knew. Guess good news travels fast, even on Omega.

"You killed them all!" Patriarch cried out, slapping his hands together in joy. "And _everyone_ knows that the Patriarch is _not_ to be crossed. Thanks to you, Aria may think of me as more than a trophy. A real advisor, maybe. Or even a threat."

He seemed to especially like that last part.

"Take care, Patriarch."

"For the first time, I think I like that name," he mused.

"Glad to hear it," I said.

I had turned halfway towards the door before Patriarch called me back. "By the way, be careful with Aria. She will approve of what you've done, I think, but not of you altering the balance of Omega. I think it reminds her too much of herself."

"I actually have to go see her about something," I said. "Thanks for the heads-up."

* * *

><p>Patriarch wasn't the only one who'd found out about my little re-interpretation of her job. "Aria wants to speak with you, human," Grizz said when we saw me. "She heard you took on the Blood Pack assassins yourself."<p>

So I went up to see Aria. She was sitting on her couch, her usual calm and expressionless look firmly in place.

"Word has it that Patriarch's krantt took out the men sent here to kill him," she said without preamble. "Funny—I didn't know he had a krantt."

"Guess you're working on old intel," I shrugged.

Aria wasn't fooled for a nanosecond, but she played along. "Hmm..." she said thoughtfully. "Well, no one would dare cross him with such a powerful krantt standing up for him."

With that, she tilted her head towards the couch. I took her cue and sat down. It was only then that I noticed the credit chit. Mainly because I'd plunked my ass on it. Aria's subtle way of paying me, I guess. "Sounds like you and Patriarch have a history," I said as I casually pocketing the chit.

"Our history is Omega's history," she replied, pretending she didn't see me. "Long, bloody and always ending in my favour. The details... are complicated."

"They always are," I said wryly.

Aria got to her feet and started pacing as she talked. "When I arrived, Omega was lawless. A land of... opportunity. I built alliances and destroyed the fools who wouldn't get in line. Which was most of them. But Patriarch, he was something different. A powerful friend."

"I'm surprise you were ever anything but rivals," I admitted.

"We were allies for a hundred years," Aria said. "I suppose he decided that was long enough. It wasn't a surprise when he turned on me—about... a century ago, give or take. He controlled the muscle. My people contributed more subtle action—espionage, politics, assassination. Fortunately for me, his men had become accustomed to certain... benefits of working with asari."

Heh. I'll just bet they did. "Sounds like you changed the rules. And the battlefield."

"Krogan nature made it easy for us to take advantage. Patriarch's men abandoned him in droves. In the end, we fought face-to-face on this very spot. Toughest fight of my life. But of course, I won."

"And then you gave him the name 'Patriarch'," I butted in before she could start patting herself on the back again. "Strange. Doesn't sound like something an asari would come up with."

Aria smiled coldly. "I found it humorous. He wanted power, and we pretended he had it with a word that doesn't exist for my people. I eventually found a certain respect for the title. And the man," she conceded.

"But you still kept him around as a trophy," I reminded her.

"I did," she admitted. "A trophy and an example. Whenever someone thought about taking me on, I pointed them to Patriarch. Dignity is one of the few commodities not available on Omega."

"Interesting," I said, "but let's move on."

"Do you need something else?" Aria asked.

"I'm trying to track down Archangel."

"You and half of Omega," she smirked. "You want him dead, too?"

"I'd heard about that," I confessed. "Why's everyone after him?"

"He thinks he's fighting on the side of good." Aria rolled her eyes. "There is no good side to Omega. Everything he does pisses someone off. It's catching up to him."

"Maybe that's the kind of guy I'm looking for," I grinned.

Aria raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, aren't you interesting? You're going to make some enemies teaming up with Archangel. Assuming you can get to him, of course. He's in a bit of trouble right now."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The local merc groups have joined forces to try and take him down," she told me. "They've got him cornered, but it sounds like they're having trouble finishing him off. They've started hiring anyone with a gun to help them."

"Sounds like that might be our ticket in," Jacob mused.

"They're using a private room for recruiting—just over there," she pointed. "I'm sure they'll sign you up."

"What can you tell me about Archangel?" I asked.

"Not as much as I'd like," she admitted. "He showed up here several months ago and started causing all sorts of problems. If you make your own laws—which everyone here does—he makes life difficult. He's reckless and idealistic. But he seems to know enough to stay clear of me."

"Which merc groups are after him, exactly? Blue Suns? Blood Pack?"

"Those groups as well as Eclipse," Aria nodded. "They're Omega's major players. Unless they're at war, you'll never see them together. But one thing they hate more than each other is Archangel."

I leaned forward. "What about you? Do you hate Archangel? Or the merc groups?"

"I don't have time for hate," she replied. "But I distrust them all equally. For now, I'm happy to just let them kill each other."

"I appreciate the help," I said, getting to my feet.

Aria smiled. "See if you still feel that way when the mercs realize you're here to help him."

"You planning on tipping them off?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

To her credit, Aria considered that question for a second before shaking his head. "No point. You'll be lucky to make it out alive, much less with Archangel in tow."

I'd be suspicious of her honesty, if I hadn't put two and two together. "But if I do make it out, you'll have seriously weakened three major players you 'distrust equally,'" I added. "Without lifting a finger."

She laughed. "You do understand me."

"Well, I'd better go," I said. "Sounds like I don't have much time to waste."

"You've got all the time in the world," Aria corrected me. "Archangel—not so much."

* * *

><p>"I'm impressed," Miranda told me as we left her lounge. "Aria isn't normally that open with people. Especially strangers."<p>

"Must be my natural charm," I joked.

"Possibly," she said. "Or she's just willing to exchange services rendered for information, and she's decided that you might be one of the few people in the Terminus Systems who has the skills and resources to take her down but will never go through with it."

Huh. Joking aside, Aria had been remarkably forthcoming. Maybe Aria had decided to make an ally—albeit one of convenience—out of me rather than an enemy. Or maybe she figured that the sooner she helped me out, the sooner I'd get out of her hair. Tentacles. Whatever.

It didn't take long to find the recruiting station. We must've passed it half a dozen times since I first arrived at Omega. I walked up to the man out front, a batarian in a Blue Suns hardsuit. "I hear you're recruiting," I told him.

He looked us over and grunted. "Why don't you step inside?" he asked, pointing at the door behind him.

The six of us entered the room. Another batarian Blue Sun was busy finishing off his preamble to another freelancer. "You'll get paid when the job's done, just like everyone else."

The freelancer strode out. "Who's next?" the recruiter asked, not looking up from his console at first. When he did, he gave us the once-over. "The six of you look like you could do some damage. Looking for a good fight?"

"You could say that," I said. I flashed him a cocky grin. Let him think I'm some well-armed idiot looking for action rather than a real soldier with an ounce of common sense.

The batarian started tapping at his console while talking to us. From the sounds of it, he'd given this spiel way too many times: "Standard fee is 500 credits each. You get paid when the job's done. If you die, your friends don't collect your share."

Translation: no offing your buds just to get a bigger paycheque.

"You'll need your own weapons and armour..." the recruiter paused and glanced up again. "Looks like you've got that covered," he amended. Then his eyes narrowed—all four of them. "And _no_, this does _not _make you a member of the Blue Suns, Eclipse or the Blood Pack. You are a freelancer. _Period_."

"Get that question way too often?" I asked sympathetically.

A frustrated grunt answered my question. "Any other questions?"

"Sure. Why are all the mercs working together to take down Archangel?" I already knew why, but I was wondering what he had to say on the matter.

"Haven't been on Omega long, huh?"

"Less than a standard week," I confessed.

"He does everything he can to screw with us. Shipments go missing, operations are compromised. Every month it gets worse. Tarak and the other bosses are tired of losing credits... and men."

"Tarak's one of the heavy hitters?" I prompted. "How many merc bosses are involved in this attack?"

"Yeah, Tarak runs the Blue Suns; Jaroth's leading the Eclipse and Garm's the head of the Blood Pack. All three bosses are overseeing the operation, but Tarak's in charge. Not that the others would ever say that. I'm surprised they're in on this at all, but I guess getting rid of Archangel is worth it."

"Where's the attack taking place?"

"Archangel's base of operations. He's been hiding right under our noses. I can't tell you exactly where you're going, but we'll get you there. Just head out of Afterlife and take a right to the transport depot. One of our boys will take you from there."

"What do we do once we're there? How do we get to Archangel?"

"The mercs will tell you when you get there," he replied. "Last I heard, they were putting the freelancers into scouting groups; they attack in waves to distract Archangel while we try to get past his defences."

"So we're just fodder for his bullets?" I snorted.

"If you don't like it, don't sign up," he shrugged. "But if you do your job right, it's easy credits. Besides, what are the odds he can kill all of you?"

"Seems like a lot of trouble for just one guy," I frowned.

"_Now _he's 'just one guy,'" he explained. "He used to have a whole team, but we've dealt with them," he explained. "Still, he's got the advantage—it's his base of operations and he knows we're coming. He's planned for an attack like this. We've lost a lot of men trying to get to him already."

"Sounds like it'll be tough trying to get to him," I commented.

"Like chasing a vorcha out of a sewer pipe," he agreed. "But that's why we're recruiting. If we just keep throwing fighters at him, we'll get him eventually."

I'd have to wait until I got the full plan from the mercs on the front line, but it sounded like they had a smart plan going, albeit a horribly cruel and wasteful one. Get a bunch of stupid guys signed up and send them in as cannon fodder to wear Archangel down. Since they weren't paying until after the job was over and payment couldn't be shared amongst party members, the mercs could really cut down on how much they'd have to pay out. Meanwhile, what was left of the merc groups would remain fresh and intact for a final push against Archangel.

"Sounds good," I said. "Let's get going."

"Out through Afterlife and right to the transport depot," the recruiter reminded me. Then he tapped his comm. "Send in the next one."

The next one was a freakin' kid. No protection other than a beige cap covering his head and a beige and dark brown vest over a white sleeveless shirt. He swaggered in like some wannabe with no clue what he was doing and asked "Hey, is this where I sign up?"

Okay, his voice was deep enough that he'd hit puberty at some point. He was still a freakin' kid, though. "You look a little young to be freelancing as a merc," I told him.

"I'm old enough," he protested, his voice cracking.

I wasn't the only one who had my doubts. My squad had a variety of looks ranging from concerned to mildly amused. The recruiter just frowned.

"I grew up on Omega. I know how to use a gun."

Oh, well in that case, why didn't you say so. I mean, that obviously makes it all better.

"So does Archangel," Jacob told him.

"Damn straight," Zaeed nodded. "Kid, you know just about enough to get yourself killed."

"I can handle myself," the kid insisted. He reached over and pulled out a gun from his belt—kid didn't even have a holster. He'd just stuck it through his belt. Surprised it hadn't fallen out yet and shot the twit in the foot. "Besides," he said "I just spent 50 credits on this pistol and I wanna use it!"

Before the idiot could say another word I grabbed his collar with one hand and shoved him against the wall. I gave him a stern look while my other hand grabbed his pistol. "Get your money back," I told him.

"Hey!" the kid whined. "What do you—"

The heft of the pistol told me it was definitely a cheap knock-off. Sure you could probably shoot someone with it, but it'd probably overheat or jam after a couple shots. I started slapping the barrel. Sure enough, it only took a couple whacks before something started rattling loose inside. "Trust me, kid," I said, shoving the pistol back at him. "You'll thank me later."

The kid looked at me, then to my companions, and finally at the recruiter. None of us looked like we were going to change our minds. Not even the recruiter. I turned away and left, leaving the wannabe looking like I'd just swiped his birthday present away from him and stepped on it.

Kids.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, there was a Blue Suns trooper standing by at the transport depot. "Just got hired to deal with Archangel," I told him.<p>

"I hope you're ready," he replied. "Archangel has been annihilating you freelancers."

"Well it'll take a bit longer to annihilate all six of us," I shrugged.

"I guess," he said dubiously. He looked at the speeders and then back at us. "These things can only take four at a time. Any of you know how to drive one?"

I nodded. "Miranda, Zaeed; with me. Everyone else with this guy."

The drive took about twenty minutes. As we touched down, another batarian Blue Suns came up to meet us. "It's about time they sent me someone who looks like they can actually fight," he said. "They tell you what you're up against?"

"We have a pretty good idea," I replied. "Though the recruiter was a little vague."

"We wouldn't get many hires if we told everyone the truth," the batarian said dryly.

Gee, I wonder why.

"Archangel's holed up in a building at the end of the boulevard over there," he continued, pointing off in the distance behind him. "He's got superior position and the only way in is over a very exposed bridge. It's a killing ground. But he's getting tired, making mistakes. We'll have him soon enough."

"The bridge is the only way to his hideout?" I pressed.

"Yeah, Archangel collapsed all the underground passageways and sealed the doors to the lower levels," the batarian replied. "We've got teams digging, but it's taking too long. If they can get the gunship flying again, that'll help. But I'm hoping the infiltration team will finish the job so we can all go home."

I thought I'd heard wrong for a second. "They were using a _gunship_ to take out _one _guy?" **(2)**

"Yeah—and Archangel shot it down. He didn't destroy it, but he knew just where to hit it to disable it."

Damn.

"It wasn't even a fair fight. At least, not for us."

"You guys have a plan?"

"A small team is waiting to infiltrate his hideout, but we need to draw Archangel's fire so they can move in."

"And that's where we come in," I said flatly.

"Exactly," he nodded. "You'll be on a distraction team. Head straight over the bridge and keep Archangel busy so the infiltration team can sneak in behind him."

"That's goddamn suicide," Zaeed burst out.

"Pretty much," he admitted. "But you look like you can handle it. Head up to the boulevard and get to the third barricade. Talk to Sergeant Cathka. He'll tell you when to go in."

"Where's the infiltration team now?"

"On the far side of the bridge, near his hideout," he said. "But they can't get any closer without being seen."

"How'd they get that close without being seen?" I asked.

"More distractions," came the reply. "Tarak used a gunship to keep Archangel busy."

"Before Archangel disabled it," I realized.

"Yeah. We were able to sneak a few men into his hideout before that happened, but now they're stuck there. We need to keep Archangel focused on the bridge so he doesn't find them and wipe them out."

"Then I guess we'll go find Sergeant Cathka," I decided.

"Good idea," he nodded. "Just watch yourself on the boulevard. Archangel's killed dozens out there already."

"Well, at least we have a way in," Miranda sighed. "But getting out?"

"In's going to be easy; out's going to be a bitch," Zaeed summarized.

"Let's find him first," I said. "Then we'll figure out how to get back."

As we headed in, EDI contacted me over the comm. "Shepard. I've scanned the area, but I am unable to plot any paths to Archangel."

"Then I guess we're going with the mercs," I replied.

"Interception of comm chatter reveals the presence of a YMIR-class heavy mech and a gunship, both of which possess considerable firepower," it warned.

"We'll see what we can do about that." I quickly shut off the comm before anyone else could see me. Turns out my paranoia was, for once, unjustified. The only other guys around were a pair of Eclipse mercs, judging by their yellow uniforms, each with the letter "E" in front of a solar eclipse. They were too busy keeping their heads down. In the distance, we could hear gunfire rattling away.

We went through a door into a small room with human and salarian Eclipse mercs. One of the salarians was busy giving orders. "As the first wave goes in, the infiltration team will attempt to take Archangel by surprise," he was saying. "I don't expect much from the freelancers. When they fail, we're up next. The light mechs go first. If that's not enough, we'll send in the heavy. Be prepared."

First freelancers, then light mechs—probably LOKI. If that didn't work, the Eclipse mercs would go in along with the heavy mech—probably another damn YMIR. Got it.

I must have been waiting too long, because the salarian looked at me. "Do you need something?"

"I, uh, I was just wondering if you lead the Eclipse," I purposely stumbled.

"You figure that out by yourself?" he sneered.

"Uh..."

"Never mind," he interrupted me. Good—the more he thought I was some rube, the easier it would be to get the drop on him when I turned the tables. "I'm Jaroth. I run Omega's Eclipse. What do you need, freelancer?"

"I'm on one of the distraction teams, but it sounds like the infiltration team is the main focus of the attack."

"Tarak's plan, not mine. He doesn't want to lose any more men, so he's throwing you freelancers at the problem. Archangel's not going anywhere, so I suppose there's no harm in trying. Who knows—maybe you'll get lucky."

"So you're just going to sit here while we get ourselves killed?" I snorted.

"Precisely," Jaroth replied bluntly. "You're paid to be a distraction. Nothing more. Whether you survive or not is up to you."

"Why are Eclipse on Omega in the first place?" I asked curiously. "What do you guys do here?"

He sighed. "Since you care so much—Eclipse controls almost 20 percent of Omega. Our transports and mechs keep the eezo moving."

"Sounds very organized."

"Eclipse runs like a well-oiled machine. **(3)** But Omega is anything but organized. It's a constant battle for control. Then Archangel comes along and complicates things even more."

"Any idea why Archangel gives you guys so much trouble?"

"Ask him. I'm just here to make as much money as I can. We didn't come to Omega to be constrained by laws and regulations. He'll regret ever coming to Omega. I promise you."

Jaroth seemed increasingly agitated and angry as he talked. Almost like it was personal. I said as much.

"He raided one of my transports last month. Killed two of my best operatives," he snapped. "One of them was my _brother_. So yes, it's pretty damn personal."

I asked about Archangel, but Jaroth didn't know much. Seems my potential recruit did such a good job of hiding his identity, even his team of fellow vigilantes didn't know who he was. Emphasis on the past tense—seems they were all dead now. Besides that, all Jaroth could say was that Archangel was smart, resourceful and deadly.

The head honcho of Eclipse soon got bored and told me to go away. Well, he used ruder words, but I got the gist of it. Bad move for him, though—he was sloppy enough to leave a datapad lying around and too fixated on revenge to notice me taking it with me.

"What does it say?" Miranda asked once we got into a hallway.

"Give me a sec," I said absently. I gave it a quick scan. Then I grinned.

"I'm guessing there's some juicy info there," Kasumi smiled.

"Sounds like the merc groups are exploring the benefits of this alliance," I replied. "First, they want to take out Archangel. After that, they'll try their collective luck with their next target."

"Which is?" Mordin prompted.

"Aria."

"Really?" Miranda said. "Well, I think Aria would be quite... grateful if you were to pass that information along."

"My thoughts exactly," I nodded. "One thing at a time, though." I opened a door on my left...

...and almost jumped back at the sight of the YMIR mech looming three metres away.

I wasn't the only one who was freaked out. Kasumi let out a yelp; Miranda started focusing her biotics and everyone else raised their weapons. We waited for one very tense minute. Then another to verify our observations. Then we breathed a sigh of relief. The heavy mech, and the light mechs lining each wall, were powered down.

Now that we weren't going to be blown to bits any time soon, I quickly scrounged the room. Nothing more than a small supply of refined eezo and some credits. Then I moved over to the YMIR mech, which was hooked up to a console. I booted it up, hacked through the firewalls and started looking around. At first, I was looking for some way to blow it up. Then I stumbled across something else entirely.

"Miranda," I asked casually. "Is that what I think it is?"

She took one look and flashed a smile my way. A conspiratorial smile, mind you, not a 'come-hither' smile. "Definitely," she confirmed. "See if you can—"

"Already on it," I said, my fingers flying over the terminal's keyboard. Within a minute or two, I had hacked into the mech's IFF protocols and set up a bypass around them.

"That should slow them down," I said with satisfaction.

"Perfect," Miranda approved. "Without those protocols running, it'll be hostile if they activate it."

* * *

><p>The next group we ran into was the Blood Pack. It's probably safe to say that all of us ignored the snarling vorcha roaming around and immediately focused on the krogan, who was large even by the standards of his people. He was wearing a hardsuit the colour of dried blood, with white skulls crudely painted on his shoulder pauldrons.<p>

"You're in the wrong place, freelancer," he rumbled.

"You the Blood Pack leader?" I asked.

"Name's Garm. That's all you need to know. That, and I'm stuck here waiting 'till you freelancers are done playing war."

"Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Ask them and go."

Since he offered so nicely... "Why are the Blood Pack on Omega?"

"We're the muscle on this bloody station," he replied. "You need protection or want someone removed, talk to us. The Blood Pack are everywhere on Omega. Everybody loves us, and everybody hates us."

"I'm guessing Archangel mostly just hates you," I said dryly.

"He's just an uptight asshole. I don't really care what he thinks," Garm sniffed. "But he's costing me men and making me work for my money. I'll be the one to take him out today—you watch. I'm the only one who's fought him one-on-one."

"Then you must know something about Archangel."

Sure enough, Garm had some intel. "He's a turian, which makes him slightly worse to look at than you."

Please. Stop it. I'm blushing.

"And he's brave... 'till he realizes you're more than he bargained for. He tried to take me down once. Waited 'till I was alone. Longest damn fight of my life, but I held him off 'till my men showed up. He wasn't so tough after that. We chased him over half of Omega. Almost had him, but the slippery bastard snuck away before we could pin him down."

"When do the Blood Pack attack?"

"Damn Tarak wants us to wait. I hate waiting. But he says the Suns have a plan, and they don't want us getting in the way. Hah! We're supposed to wait until the Eclipse send their mechs... we'll see."

"I should get going," I said after a while.

"'Bout time."

* * *

><p>We were getting close to the front lines and this Sergeant Cathka we were supposed to report to. I was sure of it. Dunno why. Maybe it was because the gunfire was getting louder. Or maybe it had something to do with the vorcha who dropped at our feet, a large hole bored in its head.<p>

Ducking down, we searched around for loot. I grabbed some medi-gel from a nearby med-station, hacked through a datapad's encryption and 'liberated' 6000 credits, then bypassed a lock to enter a side room. One with a couple power cells, some schematics for a submachine gun upgrade and another datapad with links to another account just begging to be emptied—seriously, people should stop leaving datapads with personal financial details lying around for any ol' shmuck to hack. Then again, I shouldn't complain. It's nice to have money that doesn't come from TIMmy.

Moving along, I grabbed some more medi-gel down another hallway before entering a large room filled with batarians, turians and humans—all in Blue Suns uniforms. One of the batarians was poring over a computer console, occasionally stopping to bark orders at his fellow subordinates.

After a minute, he slammed the console and punched some schmuck's lights out. "I don't want excuses!" he roared. "Tell Cathka to get that gunship working, or he'll be next over that bridge! And somebody get me those damned blueprints. Now!"

The batarian, who I guessed was the Blue Suns leader Tarak, glanced at me impatiently. "Get this freelancer out of here!" he snarled. "I don't have time for this shit!"

"I just have a few questions about the operation," I tried.

Wrong move. "Jentha—get this scum out of here!" he yelled.

To my surprise, Zaeed stepped in. "Tarak," he called out. "What's eating your ass?"

Tarak jerked his head up in surprise. "Zaeed?"

I glanced at Zaeed before turning my attention to Tarak. "I take it you two are acquainted?"

"We've crossed paths a few times," he admitted. "Since when do you work for so little, Zaeed?"

"Since when are you a goddamned madman," Zaeed returned.

"It's Archangel," Tarak snarled. "This guy's gonna kill me. Almost did, already." For the first time, I noticed a note of panic in his voice.

Zaeed picked up on it, too. "That bad, huh?" he said.

"Worse. Look Zaeed, I gotta deal with this shit. Jentha—talk to these guys. Answer whatever questions they have. Good to see you, Zaeed," he added before turning back to his console. "Who knows, maybe you'll solve my problem for me."

"Anything's possible," Zaeed shrugged.

Jentha moved over to talk with us. Tanned redhead. Kinda cute.

"Good thing you know him," she said to Zaeed. "Tarak hates having to hire freelancers—he doesn't trust anyone outside of the Blue Suns."

"You don't say," Zaeed snorted.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, turning to me.

"How 'bout starting with what the Blue Suns do on Omega?" I returned.

"We supply goods to a lot of the groups and factions here," she replied.

"And by 'goods,' you mean..." I prompted.

"Weapons. Mechs. Machinery. You name it, we can get it. We also broker deals between factions. You wouldn't know it to look at him now, but Tarak can be quite a negotiator."

"Yeah, I'm not seeing much of the negotiator right now," I admitted. "How did Archangel get him and the Blue Suns so mad at him?"

"He harasses and hounds us constantly," she said in frustration. "We worry that every job is a trap now. Does he know where this meeting is? Will this shipment suddenly disappear? How many men will we lose this time? Tarak's had enough. I don't blame him."

"What else do you know about Archangel?"

"He's a turian vigilante who thinks killing mercs is a fun way to pass the time."

I like him already.

"Other than that, he's a mystery. He shows up, usually at the worst possible time, and screws with our work. He can't die soon enough, if you ask me."

She was positively seething when she spat out that last sentence. "Why do you hate him so much?" I asked.

"He went after Tarak—at his _home_. Almost got him. Tarak's been on edge ever since, and he's making my life a living hell. Second guesses every damn thing I do."

Okay, back in the simple days when I was just an XO cursed with the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz rep, I had my share of CO's. Most of them were pretty decent—especially the last one, the one who later entered politics—but I'd heard horror stories from other XO's who weren't as fortunate. **(4)** Jentha's relationship with Tarak clearly fell in the latter territory. "Damn," I said.

She nodded in agreement. "Getting the other merc bands to help us shows you just how desperate he is. They're as bad as Archangel."

Since Jentha was being so cooperative, I figured I'd ask what the plan was. If the Blue Suns were unofficially leading this impromptu alliance, they'd have the most comprehensive idea of the master plan. "So from what I hear, we're going in to soften things up while the infiltration team makes their move. What's Tarak gonna do if the infiltration team fails?"

"To start, he'll shoot any freelancers that are still alive," she started.

Great.

"After that, he'll let Eclipse and the Blood Pack take their shots." A thinly veiled tone of frustration coloured her next words: "I suggested we work together, but he doesn't trust the other groups."

"What if Archangel survives all the other attacks? Then you Suns are on your own," I pointed out.

"That's why Tarak wants that gunship fixed so badly. But it won't come to that. Archangel's good, but he can't hold out that long. He's already been in there over a day."

Sounds like we came at the right time.

"No doubt." I stood up. "Guess time's a-wasting. I'd better get going."

"Good idea," Jentha nodded. "Make sure you check in with Cathka."

As I left, I heard Tarak bark out "Tell Jaroth he'd better have his mechs ready to go!"

* * *

><p>There wasn't a lot more to see, so we made our way over to Cathka. We might not have known who he was, but it was easy to figure out where to find him—we just had to look for the gunship. I made a mental note to see if there was anything I could do to disable it—I <em>really <em>didn't want to face one of those things on foot. Three or four humans were lounging around nearby. Freelancers, judging by their mismatching hardsuits.

"Where's Cathka?" I asked.

One of them pointed over his shoulder at some guy behind him, who was busy applying a welder, or some other instrument that generated a ton of sparks, to something inside one of the gunship's panels. Not wanting to startle someone wielding such a high-voltage instrument, I walked towards him, ducking under of the gunship's engines, and waited. After a minute, Cathka stood up and put down the welder that was causing all the sparks.

"Sergeant Cathka," he introduced himself, depolarizing the visor. Now that I could see through it, I saw he was another batarian. Blue Suns really like hiring them, I guessed.

"Ah... you must be the group Salkie mentioned. You're just in time."

"Salkie?"

"You met him when you were dropped off. He radioed to say you were coming."

Ah. That guy.

"You six kinda stand out from most of the other freelancers," he noted slowly.

Uh oh. He'd picked up on something. Time to throw him a bone so he didn't get too suspicious.

"I'm not surprised," I said with a laugh. "Most of these pussies don't look like they know how to hold their own weapons, much less survive a gunfight. Hell, when I was at the recruiting station, some kid sauntered in after me. No experience other than 'growing up on Omega.' No weapons other than a pistol that set him back _50 credits_."

"Oh boy," Cathka muttered, shaking his head. "Tell me they didn't send him over with you guys."

"Not unless he snuck back in and tried his luck again with another recruiter," I replied.

"Between you and me, this freelancer thing has been almost as much of a disaster as our first attempts to kill Archangel," Cathka confided. "It's a relief to see an independent that looks like he knows what he's doing. Anyways, the infiltration team is about to give us the signal. Archangel won't know what hit him."

He grabbed a cigarette from his pouch. As he lit it, he asked "Got any questions? This may be your last chance."

"I want to make sure I understand the plan," I said. "Way I hear it, we jump the wall and head for Archangel's building."

"And try not to get killed too fast," he amended. "You're only a distraction as long as you're alive."

"Thanks," I told him. "I think."

"Look, you don't have to make it all the way across," he said softly. "Just keep Archangel watching that bridge. The infiltration team will do the rest."

"How will the infiltration team get to Archangel, anyways?"

"They've got two answers," Cathka replied. "They trap him in close quarters and finish the bastard off face-to-face." He paused to take a puff from his cigarette. "If that doesn't work, they have explosives. They'll just need time to set up."

"And the bridge is the only way in," I asked.

"Until the gunship's working again or the blasters finish with the tunnels," he nodded. "Look, we've got a plan. We don't need you trying to come up with any great ideas."

"Just wanna finish the job and get my pay," I lied.

"Good," he said after another puff. "Just do your damn job, collect your credits and go home. Or get drunk. Or high. Whatever."

Testy, testy. Guess Tarak was riding his ass too. I glanced up at the gunship in front of me. "Are you going to give us cover with the gunship?"

Cathka laughed. "Tarak is the only one who flies her. Besides, she's not quite ready. That bastard Archangel gave her a beating last time she was out there. A few more tweaks, though, and she'll be good as new."

I waved some of the smoke away from my face. "So are you joining us on the assault after you fix her?"

That provoked another laugh from Cathka. "Ha! Tarak doesn't pay me to fight. I just plan the attacks and fix the damn gunship. You freelancers get the 'privilege' of—"

Abruptly, the panel behind him switched from a schematic of the gunship to a comm menu. A disembodied voice whispered "Target is in sight. We're a go."

"Check," Cathka replied before raising his voice. "Bravo team—go, go, go!"

Outside, we could see various freelancers do a final check on their weapons and head off. Cathka watched with some satisfaction. "Archangel's got quite a surprise waiting for him. But that means no more waiting for me."

He polarized his visor again and walked back to the gunship. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the welder that Cathka had lay down earlier, still sending off a spark or two.

"Gotta get her back to a hundred percent before Tarak decides he needs her again," Cathka was saying as I made my move.

"You're working too hard," I said, walking up beside him.

Cathka had enough time to look at me blankly before I stuck the welder in his back. He cried out in shock, his body gyrating madly and his arms flailing as the welder sent out a trail of sparks from his back and who knows how much voltage coursing through his body. I waited until he collapsed to the ground, then picked up the welder and chucked it into the gunship's innards.

Leaving the smell of burning plastic and electronics behind, I joined the others outside. They had their weapons readied but hadn't made a move yet, letting the other freelancers head out in twos and threes. Archangel was living up to his reputation, sniping down thug after thug with impressive accuracy. One freelancer tried his luck with a grenade launcher, but missed. Unfortunately for him, Archangel's return shot was much more accurate. Still, there were about nine guys left, most of whom had already made it across the bridge.

"Archangel doesn't have much time left," Miranda said.

"We'd better get moving if we're going to help him," Mordin agreed.

"Well what the hell are we waiting for?" Zaeed grinned.

"Come on," I said. I cracked my knuckles and let a grin of my own spread over my face. "We'll give these guys a surprise of our own."

To start things off, there were four guys clustered together up ahead. Miranda seized the initiative to send an EMP from her omni-tool. Since they were so close together, the pulse overloaded all of their shields. Belatedly, they realized that some of the cannon fodder had other ideas.

"They're with Archangel," one of them cried out. It was the last thing he said before he was mowed down by a hail of gunfire.

Quickly consulting my HUD, I determined the remaining freelancers had already made it inside Archangel's hideout, so we double-timed it across the bridge. Before we entered the building, I split the squad up again so we'd have someone entering through both doors. Hopefully we could get the drop on them.

As I moved in, I saw one freelancer in the middle of what looked like an open-concept room, firing madly at Archangel. Not sure why—from what I'd gleaned of the layout and Archangel's position, there was no way he could get a clean shot. Maybe he was hoping he'd get lucky and take the vigilante down without exposing himself to fire.

Speaking of which, I quickly cloaked while the idiot was burning through his thermal clip, switched to my sniper rifle and took a shot. Not the best shot I'd ever taken, as I wound up hitting his chest instead of his head in my haste. At such close range, though, it was sufficient to drop him.

Unfortunately, his friend was hiding around the corner. He extrapolated where my shot came from and whipped out from behind the wall. With my cloak disengaged, and a sniper rifle that wasn't really that useful at such close range, I was basically a sitting duck.

"Zaeed, concussive round now!" Miranda ordered.

Zaeed immediately complied. Miranda followed up with an EMP from her omni-tool. Their attacks weren't fatal, but they were enough to drain his shields and knock him on my ass, buying me enough time to pull out my submachine gun and finish the job.

Meanwhile, Jacob's team had been taking down their fair share of freelancers. **(5)** By my count and my hardsuit's sensors, we only had two guys left.

Grabbing my sniper rifle again, I darted up the stairs, activating my cloak when I was halfway up. I crouched by the stairs, where the last two freelancers were busy using some doodad to cut their way through the locked door at the end of the corridor, aimed and fired.

To my dismay, my shot wasn't enough to penetrate both the shields and the hardsuit of my target. I ducked back behind the staircase before they could return fire, making a mental note to do some serious researching and upgrading at the next available opportunity. That opportunity being some time when I was back on the Normandy and not taking fire.

By that point, the rest of the squad had caught up to me. On the count of three, we charged out and unleashed hell. For the hell of it, I finished off one of the freelancers with a sniper round to the head.

My much-maligned sniper rifle felt better, I'm sure.

* * *

><p>As soon as we determined the room was clear, I started scrounging. To my amusement, the others were quick to follow. Oh they restricted themselves to picking up spare thermal clips, but everyone's gotta start somewhere, right? <strong>(6)<strong> I supplemented my thermal clip collection with some medi-gel packs and an omni-tool upgrade that I found on a datapad.

Eventually we made our way back up to the second level and went through the door that the freelancers were about to enter. Nice place—lots of comfortable chairs, some bookshelves, all the comforts of home.

There was only one guy there, though—a turian in a blue and black hardsuit. He was perched by the balcony, bent over a sniper rifle, though he jerked up when we came in.

"Archangel?" I called out.

He motioned for us to wait with a talon, then gripped his sniper rifle. There was a pause, followed by a soft whistle from the sniper rifle, which concluded with a thump as some unseen schmuck hit the pavement.

That business done, he got up and slowly walked over to a pile of crates. He sat down stiffly, took off his helmet...

No. Freaking. Way.

He sat down on the top crate, propping the sniper rifle between his legs.

"Shepard," Garrus Vakarian greeted me. "I thought you were dead."

* * *

><p><em>(1): A krogan term for a warrior's most trusted ally and comrade, one willing to kill in his or her name and honour. They are a proof of power and authority, as only the strongest krogan would have warriors loyal enough to act in their name, but are regarded as a proxy, representative or bodyguard rather than a mere servant. <em>

_(2): A flying vehicle driven by vectored-thrust engines and an element zero core, gunships are staples amongst mercenary groups and gangs for their assault transport and heavy support capabilities. The most popular model—the A-61 Mantis—boasts a modular design that allows it to be customized for low-altitude, fighter, high-altitude bomber or single-stage-to-orbit operations. They generally are equipped with mass accelerator machine guns and rocket launchers._

_(3): Actually, most official and unofficial analyses identified the Blue Suns as the most organized and disciplined mercenary group. However, Eclipse employs more cutting-edge weaponry and technology, as well as frequent use of biotics. _

_(4): Shepard fails to note that it was his recommendation that catapulted his last CO into the seedy galaxy of politics._

_(5): Shepard makes a determined point to distinguish between 'mercs' and 'freelancers.' I believe he does so to illustrate the difference between hardened veterans with experience as a gun-for-hire and inexperienced first-timers naive enough to think they could make a quick buck._

_(6): Oh dear. _


	9. Merc' is a Four Letter Word

**Chapter 9: 'Merc' is a Four Letter Word**

When TIMmy suggested a bunch of candidates for my new squad, my first thought was to reassemble my old one. My original band of courageous—or suicidal—misfits who I'd dragged along in my constant search for minerals and miscellaneous loot. My menagerie—myself included—that couldn't help but stick our noses in every single hornet's nest we could find. My party of brave souls who'd slogged through more firefights than I care to remember, all because we got swept up in something so much greater and mind-boggling.

Sure I'd eventually come to accept that too much time had passed, that everyone had scattered and now had new duties and responsibilities, for that dream to become a reality. But that didn't mean I couldn't make a wish every once in a while.

So when I saw that one of my new potential squad-mates was actually an old squad-mate—and a sniper to boot—all I could think was 'Wow. Universe is finally giving me a break here. Must wanna try something new for kicks.' **(1)**

"Garrus! What are you doing here?" I stepped forward, ready to drag him into a good ol' backslap. Then I stopped. Something didn't seem right.

"Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practise."

Now I knew something was off. The way Garrus replied clinched it. He sounded tired—no, scratch that. He sounded _exhausted_. Physically, emotionally exhausted. Like he was this close to giving up. "You okay?" I asked worriedly.

"Been better, but it sure is good to see a friendly face," Garrus replied. "Killing mercs is hard work. Especially on my own."

"What are you doing out here on Omega in the first place?" I asked.

"I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel," Garrus said bitterly. "Figured I could do more good on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

"Yeah. About that," I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you managed to piss off _every _major merc organization in the Terminus Systems?"

"It wasn't easy," Garrus said with a mock groan, tilting his neck exaggeratedly as if to stretch a sore muscle. "I _really _had to work at it." More seriously, he went on: "I am amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must really hate me."

"Yes," I said with a straight face. "They really hate Archangel—mild-mannered turian by day, ruthless vigilante by night. Since when did you start calling yourself that, anyway?"

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. "It's just a name the locals gave me. For, um, all my good deeds." He coughed in embarrassment. "I don't mind it, but please... it's, um, just 'Garrus' to you." **(2)**

"Yeah. Garrus," Zaeed drawled. "Nailed me good a couple times, by the way."

This was news to me. I hadn't seen him complain or anyone notice.

"Concussive rounds only. No harm done," Garrus explained. "Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

"Uh huh," Zaeed said dubiously.

"If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it," Garrus pointed out.

Zaeed considered this, then shrugged. "Good shot," he offered.

"Thanks," Garrus replied. He couldn't resist adding "Besides, you were taking your sweet time, guarding the rear and all. I needed to get you moving."

Now I remembered that Zaeed had taken the rear guard position to make sure no one tried sneaking up on us, which probably meant he took more time to get across than the rest of us. Fair enough. Zaeed seemed to accept Garrus's improvisation to protect our cover as well, so I moved onto other matters. "Well, we got here, but I don't think getting out will be as easy."

"No, it won't." Garrus stood up and clambered down the crates to the floor. "That bridge saved my life, funnelling all those witless idiots into scope. But it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

Yeah. All those discussions I had with the merc leaders kinda led me to the same conclusion.

"So we just sit here and wait for them to take us out?" Miranda asked. "You must have a better plan than that."

"Our situation isn't all that bad," Garrus replied. "This place has held them off so far. And with the six of you now..." He looked us over, glanced out at the bridge, then looked at us again. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defences and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan."

I had to agree. It seemed like the mercs were getting antsy. If they waited to rustle up another round of freelancer cannon fodder, they'd probably come to blows. They had to strike now if they didn't want to tear each other apart. And if they followed their plan and came at us one group at a time, we could whittle them down. Under the circumstances, Garrus's proposal was the best one.

Still, there was no denying that it was the best choice _only_ because we were trapped with limited ammo and rations. "How'd you let yourself get into this position?"

"My feelings got in the way of my better judgement," Garrus replied cryptically. "It's a long story."

"I'll bet," I said.

"I'll make you a deal: you get me out of here alive, and I'll tell you the whole damn thing."

"Done," I agreed. "If we fight as a team, we'll hold the mercs off."

"Especially since that bridge provides a perfect bottleneck," Miranda added.

"You're both right," Garrus nodded. "Your reinforcements and that bridge does counter the mercs' numbers. Let's see what they're up to." He walked over to the ledge and peered through the scope on his sniper rifle. "Hmm..." he said after a moment. "Looks like they know their infiltration team failed."

He turned to me. "Take a look," he offered, holding out his rifle. "Scouts. Eclipse, I think."

I took his sniper rifle and squinted through the scope. Uh oh. Looked like Tarak and the other merc leaders had started phase two. With all the targets running around, and the sniper rifle in my hand, I couldn't resist centering on one, breathing out and letting a round off. The mech's head popped off like a balloon. Funniest headshot I've ever seen.

I returned Garrus's sniper rifle to him. "More than scouts," I said casually. "Mercs are sticking to their plan by sending in Eclipse's light mechs. One less now, though."

"Indeed," Garrus frowned. "We better get ready. I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point."

From what I'd seen, he wasn't kidding.

"You..." he paused, a knowing look in his eyes. "You can do what you do best," he said finally. "Just like old times, Shepard."

* * *

><p>Before the mechs got too close, I had me and Zaeed placed on either side of Garrus. This would allow us to overlap the firing arcs of our sniper rifles to cover the greatest possible range. Following my cue, Miranda split up the rest of the squad between the snipers, so the biotic and tech experts of the squad would be similarly spread out.<p>

At first, it was basically a free-for-all. I mean, once you've seen one light mech, you've seen them all. Get up, snipe, rinse, repeat. Then Eclipse ran out of mechs and started sending in their own mercs. And by send in, I mean point them at the base and send them in running, with the occasional pause to let off some covering fire. Guess they finally decided that our sniper rifles gave us a definite advantage. Rather than simply stroll across and have our snipers take them out one by one, they'd decided to get into close range as soon as possible.

As a result, it was a bit harder to deal with those guys. I mean, have you ever tried to snipe a fast-moving target? Not as easy as it looks, especially when you're under fire.

The only ones who weren't running were the Eclipse heavy support units, who were busy trying to find cover on the bridge so they could deploy their own weapons. I swear one of them tried to shoot a rocket at me. Not to be outdone, I fired off a reply and drilled a nice neat hole through his helmet.

I lifted my head off the scope to get a better tactical view of the situation and immediately saw a pair of asari running towards us toting shotguns. I'd rather face some random trooper than those two, thank you very much. "Miranda," I called out. "Asari incoming."

"On it," she replied, taking out their barriers with a biotic attack a second later.

"Much obliged," I replied, my eye already back on the scope. I pulled the trigger, and one of the asari's heads exploded in a spray of blue-purple blood. A second later, someone took out the other one.

"Eclipse mercs have entered the base," Garrus abruptly warned us. Great, as if things weren't fun enough already.

"Miranda, Jacob; with me," I immediately ordered, absently admiring his tactical awareness. I later learned that he had set up sensors throughout the base, which were feeding their readouts to his HUD.

The three of us headed for the balcony and the stairs outside the room, leaving everyone else to deal with the rest of the mercs. Consulting my HUD, I quickly determined that one of the mercs was just about to enter the main room below us. Sure enough, the first guy to poke his head out was a lone trooper. He didn't leave it out for very long, but I didn't need much time to take him out with the last shot from my sniper rifle. I'd have to stock up on thermal clips later on.

As I switched over to my submachine gun, I noted that a couple more mercs were showing up. Both of them had shields... right until Miranda overloaded them. I set one of them on fire and watched him flail madly away before the flames overwhelmed him. The other guy, who only got splashed with some of the plasma, managed to slap it out. He finished in time to get a shotgun blast to the head, courtesy of Jacob.

By that point, though, some of the mercs had made it to the stairs, so I ran over to cover it. A quick spray of fire sent them diving for cover. Two troopers, fairly close together.

Before I could say anything, Miranda dropped an EMP on them. The mercs were close enough so that the blast knocked out both their shields, which allowed me to set them on fire. I needed a couple plasma rounds, but I eventually barbequed the lot of them.

Seeing that we were clear, I darted down to scoop up some thermal clips. As I grabbed a half dozen or so, I heard Jaroth call out over some kind of loudspeaker. "All right, let's see how you handle this, Archangel!"

A minute later, I heard Garrus curse. "Damn it! They're sending out a heavy mech."

I laughed, remembering the tinkering I'd done earlier. "That problem should take care of itself, Garrus."

"Shepard, what are you..." Garrus broke off at that point in a fit of laughter.

Pausing to grab another pair of thermal clips, I ran back to join the others. This was something I really wanted to see.

I arrived just in time to see three Eclipse troopers frantically firing away at their former heavy mech ally, who was busy tearing them apart with mass accelerator cannon fire or rockets. One of them frantically tried to dive for cover behind a chunk of debris, only to get blown to bits. **(3)** Another dropped his gun and ran back the way he came. He took about a dozen steps before he literally got carved in half.

"You know," I said casually, "it's really not fair of them to gang up on that poor mech like that."

"Only bullies would do that," Garrus said, having recovered from his bout of hilarity.

"We should do what we can to help that poor mech out," I decided.

"So long as we don't provide too much help," Miranda frowned. "That hacking job you did on it won't last forever."

"We'll only aid the YMIR until it has the advantage and the mercs are on the losing side," I reassured her. "At which point we'll be obligated to help them out by whittling down the heavy mech's defences."

"And once the poor mech gets overwhelmed by all the mean mercs, we really should switch sides again to help it out," Kasumi grinned.

"It wouldn't do to play favourites," I agreed with a mock sigh.

"This could be a long day," Miranda said with a straight face. Apparently, she'd come to accept the plan. "What a shame."

A half dozen troopers had surrounded the mech by that point, with another two snipers firing from the distance. Bracing my sniper rifle against my shoulder, I took out the enemy snipers one by one, then panned my view down a notch to drill a round through a salarian merc's helmet. By that point, there were only two mercs left, so we switched targets. Just long enough to drain the mech's shields and bring some more Eclipse mercs to join the party.

This went on for almost ten minutes. It probably would have lasted even longer had a rocket launcher-toting merc not taken cover and started sending volley after volley at the heavy mech. The merc had cleverly positioned himself so the mech was directly in our line of sight, preventing us from doing anything. After several minutes, the mech succumbed to the onslaught and exploded. A pyrrhic victory for the merc, though, since he was caught up in the blast.

A slightly deranged cry rang out. It was Jaroth. Accompanied by a pair of Eclipse mercs, he vaulted over the barricade onto the bridge and started to charge. Ignoring his companions, who were killed almost immediately, he ran towards us, firing his submachine gun the whole way. He made it halfway across before a combination of weapons fire and Miranda's EMP took out his shields. I sent a plasma round to partially melt his armour, which halted his momentum just long enough for Kasumi and Mordin to pop a few holes through the weakened armour plates.

Still determined to press the attack, Jaroth took a step forward, only to get knocked on his ass by a well-aimed shot by Zaeed. Garrus finished him off with one shot from his sniper rifle.

I peered through my sniper rifle again, but it looked like we were in the clear. So I quickly scrounged some credits from a locker and swiped a nearby medi-gel pack.

While I was busy, Zaeed picked up a fancy-looking assault rifle. "M-15 Vindicator," he identified. "Damn good weapon. Had one of these a while back, 'till a surprise attack from one of my bounties sent me hurtling out of my quarters with nothing but a pistol."

"I found a couple of those last month," Garrus explained. "If you want that one, it's yours."

Zaeed gave him a feral grin and promptly switched weapons. As he started fiddling with the settings, I went to talk to Garrus.

"You're kicking ass, Shepard," he complimented me. "They barely touched me." He glanced out at the bridge. "And we got Jaroth in the process. I've been hunting that little bastard for months now."

"Why were you after him?" I asked.

"He's been shipping tainted eezo all over Citadel space," Garrus replied. "Half the goods I seized back at C-Sec came from his team here on Omega. I took out a big shipment a while back and killed his top lieutenant in the process."

"And his brother," I added, remembering the conversation I had with the former Eclipse leader.

"That's right," Garrus confirmed. "Not surprised he decided to work with the other mercs after that."

"We've still got Blood Pack and Blue Suns left," I said, getting back to business. "You've been hitting and running their operations, so you must know what their forces are like."

"Yeah. They're pretty damn tough," Garrus said. "Let's see what they're up to."

He did a quick sweep of the bridge and pulled up the building sensor readings on his HUD. "They've reinforced the other side," he reported after a moment. "Heavily. But they're not coming over the bridge yet. What are they waiting for?"

For some reason, that tingling feeling at the back of my neck manifested itself. I had the strangest sense that I was forgetting something.

Just then, we heard a dull explosion. The whole building shook, and alarms started ringing.

"What the hell was that?" Jacob asked sharply.

Garrus accessed some more readouts on his omni-tool. He didn't like what they told him. "Damn it. They've breached the lower level, down in the basement."

Now I remembered. "Some of the mercs said they had blasters working on clearing the tunnels in that area," I said.

"Well, they had to use their brains eventually," Garrus sighed. "You'd better get down there, Shepard. I'll keep the bridge clear."

"Miranda, Zaeed; come with me," I ordered. "Everyone else stays here. Back Garrus up and follow his orders."

"If you say so," Jacob agreed.

Kasumi pouted. "But I wanted to go down into the deep, dark hole," she whined. Then she winked. "Just kidding," she added.

"Thanks, Shepard," Garrus nodded gratefully. "You better get going."

"How do I get down to the basement?" I asked. "And what do I do once I'm there?"

"Go down a level," Garrus directed. "The basement door is on the west side of the main room, behind the stairs. There are emergency shutters in each of the tunnels, which you'll have to close manually before the mercs can get through. I'll radio directions if you need help... but you've got to get down there quick.

"Good luck."

* * *

><p>Miranda, Zaeed and I followed Garrus's instructions. Sure enough, there was a door behind the stairs. Now that I saw it again, I vaguely remembered seeing it when I first entered the base. It was sealed at the time, though. Guess Garrus opened it for me. Very thoughtful of him.<p>

The three of us ran through the door and down the stairs into a large room. We could see one of the tunnel entrances at the far end, with a control panel on one side—presumably to activate the shutters. I sprinted over, Miranda and Zaeed hot on my heels, and slapped the controls. An alarm started blaring as the shutters started to close.

"Commencing shutdown," a helpful automated voice announced. "Alert: shutters will be sealed in ten seconds."

Naturally a krogan and a trio of vorcha, all sporting Blood Pack colours came out at that point. I immediately sent a plasma round at them, hoping the fire would slow all of them down.

I had to settle for one out of four, as the other three ignored their burning comrade and just kept coming. Crap.

The Blood Pack was quick to open fire, and we returned the favour. Mostly cover fire, though. We didn't need to kill them, after all. Just slow them down until... yes! The shutters closed shut with a clang.

"Shutter secured," the automated voice told me.

One down...

Garrus must have been monitoring our progress while dealing with any mercs topside, because he contacted us over the comm. Guess someone must have told him which frequencies we were using. "There's two more shutters. Get them closed fast."

Looking around, I saw two more doors, one on each side of the tunnel we'd just sealed. The tunnels must be somewhere beyond them. "Which way?" Miranda asked.

"Does it matter?" Zaeed snorted.

"Not really," I shrugged, glancing around. Arbitrarily, I chose the one on the right. It opened into a large hangar with a tunnel at the end. Could've doubled as a cargo bay, what with all the crates and supplies lying around. Good cover. For us and the vorcha who immediately opened fire as soon as we stepped in.

As one, we leapt for the closest cover and returned fire. Miranda and I spammed our biotic and plasma attacks, respectively, with a healthy dose of submachine gun fire in between. Zaeed was content to thoroughly test out his new assault rifle, mixing in an occasional concussive round for good measure.

It didn't take long before we'd whittled our enemies down to a lone pair of targets. One of whom seemed intent on skirting around and attacking us from our flank. I kept one eye on my HUD and another on my surroundings. It wasn't long until a hungry varren came out. Before it got too close, Miranda crushed its hardened scales with her biotics. I finished the job by setting the mutt on fire.

I motioned Miranda and Zaeed to find new firing positions up front while I stayed behind to watch them. Classic leapfrog position. Worked too, as they immediately opened fire. Moving forward myself, I saw that the one lone target—a vorcha—had some company.

"Here they come. There aren't too many... yet."

That was Garrus. Wasn't sure if he was talking to us or just forgot to turn off the comm. I sent a plasma round to burn an injured vorcha who didn't have the sense to get out of cover. I regretted that action almost immediately, as the plasma illuminated a varren who was charging us.

No time to wait for my omni-tool to recharge. I just unloaded half a clip into the thing, thanking my foresight for activating my warp ammo mod a while back. Thankfully I brought it down before it started chewing—or pissing—on my leg. Not sure which would've been worse.

"Taking some fire, Shepard," Garrus warned again. "We can't hold out long on two fronts like this."

Unfortunately, there was still a stream of Blood Pack mercs coming in ones and twos. Guess we'd have to take a few chances, even if the latest batch included a krogan.

I charged out, sending a surge of plasma in front of me. Miranda helped me out with her biotics, which managed to penetrate the krogan's armour. Then the three of us unleashed a hail of fire on him. Undaunted, he lifted his shotgun, paused long enough to get a good shot, and fired.

There goes my shields, I thought to myself. Biting back an expletive or two, I ejected my gun's thermal clip, slotted in a new one and finished it off. I took a moment to see if there was anyone else coming. Naturally there was. I pressed myself against the wall to present as small a target as possible and hit the shutter controls.

The shutter started to close. Sensing that victory was about to be snatched away from them, the mercs charged. In such close quarters, I didn't have time to snipe anyone, but a healthy dose of fire and submachine gunfire seemed to suffice. I grinned to myself as another vorcha bit the dust.

"Shutter obstruction detected. Shutdown aborted."

What?

A growl answered my question. That and a large vise clamping on my leg.

Looking down, I saw that a varren had snuck by and was trying its darndest to take a bite out of me. I fired half a clip into it, but that didn't seem to dissuade it. In desperation, I resorted to pounding away at it. I generally try to avoid hand-to-hand combat as a rule. It's crude, it's beneath me, and I'm really, really bad at it. But when you've got someone trying to use your leg as a chew toy, you'll try just about anything.

Didn't hurt that the stupid mutt was too busy trying to bite through my hardsuit to fight back. Even when one good wallop finally snapped its neck.

I quickly reached up and slapped the shutter controls again. Looking around, I saw that there were at least half a dozen vorcha milling around and opened fire. For once, I held off on my plasma attacks, waiting for...

Yep, there we go. Another varren. I sent a bolt of plasma at it, setting the damn thing on fire. That didn't send it running away with its tail between its legs, but it did give it reason to pause, if only for a second.

That second was all I needed. The shutter slammed shut, just as the varren leapt at me. I heard a thud, followed by several rounds of pinging noises. Probably from the vorcha.

"Just one more shutter," Garrus said tensely. "Hurry!"

"We're on our way," I called back. "Just hang on."

"They're getting more aggressive, Shepard," Garrus replied. "We won't be able to keep this up for long."

By that point, we'd arrived at the door to the last shutter. We barrelled into a narrow corridor, one with barricades and pillars sprinkled down its length. And vorcha, naturally.

This time, the vorcha seemed more willing to stay behind the barricades and take pot shots at us. So, after a round or two of biotics/plasma goodness, I pulled out my sniper rifle and started taking headshots.

"Damn," Garrus hissed over the comm. "More trouble on the bridge. I can't keep up."

I glanced at my HUD. Two more contacts within my sensors' detection range. Hopefully that would be it and we could double back to help Garrus.

Motioning to Miranda and Zaeed to follow me, I started vaulting barricade after barricade, exchanging my sniper rifle for my submachine gun as I went. Eventually I reached the end of the corridor, which took a sharp right. I didn't actually go around the corner, but I was close enough to see another vorcha.

And that guy saw me. Asshole managed to drain my shields, but not before I set him on fire and sent a few rounds to finish him off. I leaned forward just enough to see the last target...

...and hastily ducked back, jumping over the nearest barricade.

Miranda raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

"Vorcha with a flamethrower," I whispered. "Figured I'd let my shields recharge before facing the oven."

"If you can weaken its armour, I can detonate his fuel pack," Miranda said, looking at me.

"Funny how that plan has me walking headlong into the fire first," I muttered sourly. "Did you plan that, by any chance?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Miranda replied with a straight face. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was teasing me.

"You're all heart," I muttered sourly. Checking my HUD, I saw that my shields were back at full strength. "Here we go."

I grabbed my sniper rifle again, cloaked and darted out. Close range sniper shot. Should be an easy kill, right?

Nope. Took him down to a sliver of health, but it wasn't enough. Thankfully, Miranda had caught up and overloaded his fuel pack. Seeing the guy go up in flames was a very cheery sight.

After that, we went over, activated the shutter controls and held off the enemy long enough for the shutters to close. With nothing else to do, we headed back to Garrus and the rest of the squad.

* * *

><p>We were about halfway back when Garrus contacted us again. "Get back here, Shepard," he said tensely. "They're coming in through the doors."<p>

"Almost there," I replied. "Just hang on."

As we ran up the stairs, I heard someone—Garm, presumably—roar out. "Rip them to shreds," he howled. The muffled roar of a sniper rifle was the only reply he got.

The three of us ran into the main room. Garm, almost a dozen vorcha, and a varren or two were clustered near the stairs that led to the second floor, where Garrus and the others were hiding. "Watch my back," Garm was saying to his cronies. "I'll deal with Archangel."

Silently, I motioned for Miranda and Zaeed to get into firing positions. I gave them a couple seconds before sniping a vorcha.

To their credit, the Blood Pack responded quickly. They managed to return fire almost immediately, draining most of my shields before I could find some cover. While I waited for my shields to recover, Miranda and Zaeed teamed up, focusing on taking out one vorcha at a time. Smart move—normally, I'd recommend spreading their fire to suppress as many enemies as possible. With the vorcha's annoying ability to regenerate, though, that tactic would just be a waste of bullets.

I was about to lean out and join the fun when I felt a tingle on the back of my neck, accompanied by a depressingly familiar growl. Sure enough, it was another varren. I set it on fire, unloaded a full clip into the fast-moving bastard, then clubbed it to death for good measure.

With the immediate threat to my health and wellbeing dealt with, I engaged my cloak and poked my head out. That told me three things:

One, there was a vorcha taking cover behind a sofa. Or trying to, as my sniper rifle soon found.

Two, there was another vorcha hiding near the stairs, out of my immediate line of sight.

Three, everyone else was either dead or had already climbed the stairs. The latter was confirmed when Garrus reported, far too calmly, that Garm had him pinned down.

With quick hand motions, I got Miranda to join me by the stairs. With a quick gesture, Zaeed dove over the sofa. Miranda and I whipped out while Zaeed was rolling to his feet. Sure enough, the vorcha had been fooled into tracking Zaeed, so he was completely blindsided by our attack on his flank.

With that last guy out of the way, I quickly grabbed a few nearby clips. No time to do a thorough search, not with the rest of the squad in dire straits. I charged up the stairs, hero to the rescue and all that.

Unfortunately, Garm's flunkies had obeyed his orders to watch his back. On the upside, there was only one of them. On the other hand, it was a krogan. While our initial volley made short work of his armour, I had to exercise a 'tactical withdrawal' to buy us some time. **(4)**

The krogan must have been eager for blood or something, because he came after us. And since I was last in line, I was the first target he saw. Lucky me.

Thankfully my cloak had recharged by then, and I quickly activated it. A scowl spread over his face as I shimmered out of sight. "Quit hiding," he snapped.

"Fine," Zaeed called out, sending a high-yield round into him. As he staggered back, I sent a round from my sniper rifle through his visor and into his skull. Thankfully, that was enough to finish him off.

Without any bouncers to keep us out of the party, we ran into the second story room. Garrus and the others were definitely pinned down, while Garm stood out in plain sight, shooting anything that dared present itself. Red eyes, red armour—very scary. So you can imagine why I ducked behind cover as soon as I sent a sniper round into his hardsuit.

Letting out a roar of fury, Garm whirled around. I glimpsed Garrus and the others using the opportunity to dent his armour a bit more, but we were a far cry from finishing him off. On the bright side, at least his barrier was already down when we arrived, so we didn't have to tackle that level of protection. Looking at Miranda and Zaeed, I silently counted down from three. As one, we burst out and hurled everything—biotics, plasma and good ol' fashioned gunfire—at the krogan leader.

That was enough to destroy his armour. Now we could start whittling down his health.

I glanced at my HUD. Cloak was ready to engage, but my shields hadn't regenerated yet. If I cloaked now, I'd be stuck with only 33% shields. I decided to wait. Let someone else get in on the fun.

By the time I decided that I'd done enough sharing and popped back up, Garm was busy facing a lot of fire. I grabbed my sniper rifle and lifted it up. I activated my cloak in the process—partly to use the cloak's energy to boost the kinetic energy of my sniper rifle, partly so Garm couldn't see me, and partly because it was still so darn cool to be invisible. I aimed, breathed out, squeezed the trigger...

...and was pleasantly surprised when Garm swayed on the spot, then dropped to the ground with a floor-shaking thud.

Glancing around, I didn't see any more bad guys. I looked at Garrus. "I'm going to grab some thermal clips," I told him.

"Good idea," he nodded. "We'll do the same. Come find me when you're ready."

The search didn't take long. I was back in the room within a minute.

"Tough bastard," Garrus said. "But I've seen worse."

"Sorry I didn't get back sooner," I replied.

Garrus shook his head in disagreement. "You came back at the right time. We've just taken out Garm and his Blood Pack. This day just gets better and better. He was one tough son of a bitch."

Somehow, I didn't think he was talking about Jaroth. "Garm mentioned you tangled with him before."

"Yeah, I caught him alone once. None of his gang to help him. I still couldn't take him out. I've never seen a krogan regen that fast. He's a freak of nature. He just kept at it until his vorcha showed up. It was close, but I had to let him go. Not this time," he finished with a smile.

"Now we only have the Blue Suns to worry about," I observed.

"Yeah," Garrus agreed. "Maybe we oughta take our chances and fight our way out. Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before."

I was just thinking that such a plan wouldn't be the best way to keep my skin intact when that tingling sensation abruptly came back. Hard.

"Besides, he won't be expecting to meet us head-on—" Garrus added, just as a large shadow passed behind a nearby window.

"Get down!" I yelled, shoving Garrus towards a nearby sofa. Everyone scattered as the window exploded inwards.

It was the gunship. Tarak's pride and joy. And it was flying.

"Damn it! I thought I took that thing out already!" Garrus yelled.

"Tarak had one of his goons fixing it. I made sure he wouldn't be able to fix it completely!" I yelled back. I did a quick scan of the gunship before continuing. "If I'm reading this right, that thing is still at half-strength. Guess Tarak didn't want to wait."

"Even damaged, gunship adds force multiplier," Mordin said quietly. "Presence is problematic."

"They're unloading troops from the gunship!" Garrus warned. "Watch your back, Shepard!"

Sure enough, a half dozen Blue Suns rappelled down into the room, led by Tarak's second-in-command, Jentha. I quickly squeezed off a shot at her, but it only drained half of her shields.

Miranda and Kasumi tag-teamed one of the troopers, taking out his shields and a good chunk of his hardsuit. Zaeed saw this as well. "This'll put him down," he grunted, shooting a high-yield concussive round in his centre of mass. The merc clutched his chest, staggered, and then dropped to the ground.

Not to be outdone, I spotted another Blue Suns without shields. A perfect target to set on fire. So I did. It was then that I learned I wasn't the only one with that particular function in my omni-tool, as Mordin lit up another hapless merc. Poor guy broke cover and ran halfway across the room before he succumbed.

By that point, Jentha was the only one left. Miranda was quick to smash part of her armour. I followed up by cloaking and firing my sniper rifle. Jacob finished the poor woman off with a blast from his shotgun. At least he didn't blow her cute little head off.

Garrus had taken a break to access his building sensors. "They're rappelling down the side wall. Ground floor!"

The two of us ran over to the other side of the room. I should probably explain that there was no wall or window there, just a large half-wall that opens out into the main room. So it provided a nice vantage point for us to start sniping merrily away. Not that it was a contest.

Seriously—that kind of thing is very unprofessional. **(5) **

Unfortunately, there were a lot of Blue Suns milling around down there. It didn't take long until one or two made it to the stairs. "Keep firing, Garrus," I told him. "I'll head off anyone climbing the stairs."

Not waiting for his reply, I ran out. Just in the nick of time, as the closest Blue Sun was only a couple metres away. I fired a full clip from my submachine gun into him before shooting a plasma round at him, then ducked to avoid the return fire from his pal.

Pulling out my sniper rifle, I waited a moment, cloaked, and leaned out. Nothing, nothing, noth—there we are! One shot, one kill. I love being a sniper.

I headed over to the stairs, consulting my HUD on the way. There was one more Blue Suns, but he—or she—seemed to be hiding at the moment. I wouldn't be able to attack that merc without exposing myself to the pair of high-ranking Blue Suns taking cover at the bottom of the stairs.

Ducking behind a pillar, I waited until my cloak recharged and activated it again. By chance, one of the Blue Suns had gotten to his feet, about to vault over his cover and start up the stairs. He was just asking to get a headshot. So I gave him what he subconsciously asked for.

Very thoughtful of me, I know.

A second later, Garrus took out the other guy. That left one more Blue Suns hiding around on the second floor. So I cloaked and went merc hunting. I found her quivering in fear behind a sofa, cradling a rocket launcher in her lap. It was the easiest thing to centre on her helmet and fire. She stiffened for a nanosecond, then sagged against the sofa.

I paused just long enough to grab three or four thermal clips, then raced back to join the others. Most of them were under cover. The exception was Garrus, who was panning the room through his sniper rifle scope.

A brief whine, and that damn tingling sensation at the back of my neck, was all the warning we got before the gunship dropped into sight.

"Archangel!" Tarak roared.

Garrus whirled around, just in time to get several rounds slamming into his chest plate. He dropped to the ground with a grunt and started pulling himself to cover, using his sniper rifle as a makeshift crutch.

"You think you can screw with the Blue Suns?" Tarak yelled out over the gunship's loudspeakers.

Garrus forced himself to a sitting position. I could see him counting to himself, steeling himself for an attack.

"This ends now!" Tarak shouted.

I swear I saw the next few seconds unfold in slow motion. Garrus jumped out, sniper rifle at the ready, at the same time Tarak launched a mini-rocket. The rocket exploded in his face with a deafening boom, sending him flying head over heels to the corner.

Belatedly, I took cover myself before the same thing happened to me. "Garrus!" I yelled.

He didn't respond. He just... lay there.

Somehow, I maintained the presence of mind to cloak before firing my sniper rifle. Not much impact. The gunship hovered there, spraying the room with rounds. We returned fire as best we could, but it didn't seem to have much effect. I cloaked and scanned the gunship, looking for a weak spot. Nothing. The vehicle might have been at half-strength, but it looked like the vulnerable points had been reinforced. I let off a shot anyways, but it didn't seem to do much good.

Ducking back down, I exchanged my sniper rifle for something that I hadn't used for a while. Something that had a bit more weight to it. I waited for my cloak to recharge, engaged it and lobbed a grenade at Tarak's not-so-little toy.

To my delight, it took out a good chunk of its armour. Tarak had the presence of mind to move the gunship to another window, where Jentha and the others first rappelled in. Unfortunately for him, he was still within range of my grenade launcher. I fired a grenade, then another, then another. Not sure why I was suddenly so trigger-happy. Maybe because I didn't like the way he'd insulted me earlier. **(6)**

Tarak withdrew after yet another grenade exploded against his prize and joy, but not before he dropped off a half dozen Blue Suns to tangle with us.

"Engaging hostiles," one of them yelled out, jumping over a sofa. Or he tried to, before Miranda shorted out his shields and I plugged a hole in his helmet.

As he slumped over the sofa, the rest of us opened fire, pinning them down. I think Kasumi was going engage her cloak and sneak attack one of the mercs, but decided otherwise when a volley of fire from Zaeed came close to taking her out from behind. So she settled for zapping another merc's shields instead. Jacob used that opportunity to lift the guy into the air with his biotics, which had the unexpected benefit of sending him twirling into the line of sight of some of his buddies. By the time he was out of the way—and ablaze thanks to Mordin's plasma round—we were already lined up to unleash a withering hail of fire. Literally, in my case.

Consulting my HUD, I grabbed my grenade launcher again and got into position. I counted down, wanting to time things just right. Tarak's gunship dropped into view again, its shadow blanketing the room...

...and then illuminating the room with a fiery light as my grenade blew the damn thing out of the sky. **(7)**

Sparing a brief glance at my HUD to confirm that the coast was clear, I ran over to Garrus. He was just lying there in a pool of blue blood. **(8)** I crouched over to check his pulse. Then I realized that I wasn't sure where to check for a pulse on a turian.

To my relief, Garrus's eyes blinked over. He gasped for air, taking in breath after wheezing breath. "Garrus!" I said gratefully.

He didn't reply, his talons closing reflexively over the barrel of his sniper rifle. Behind me, I glimpsed someone scanning him with an omni-tool. "We're getting you out of here, Garrus," I told him. "Just hold on.

"Radio Joker," I snapped. "Make sure they're ready for us."

"Understood," Miranda replied, her fingers already on her comm.

Zaeed squatted beside me, the holographic display of his omni-tool hovering over his arm. He must have been the one I saw in my peripheral vision earlier. He looked at Garrus, looked at his omni-tool data, and then looked at me with an inscrutable expression on his face. "He's not gonna make it," he said softly.

"Zaeed?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

* * *

><p>Dr. Chakwas took the news that our latest recruit was an old shipmate without a blink, immediately guiding us through some emergency first aid on the field. I don't think I was ever as grateful for her cross-species medical training as I was at that time.<p>

Somehow, we managed to stabilize him enough for transport, load him on an improvised stretcher and lug him to the speeders—without facing any more mechs. We made a straight bee-line for the Normandy, where Dr. Chakwas met us at the airlock. She immediately appointed Jacob and I to carry Garrus to the elevator and down to sickbay, and shanghaied Mordin to assist her before he could head back to the tech lab to continue his experiments. As soon as Garrus had been transferred to one of the beds, she booted me and Jacob out with strict orders to leave her and Mordin alone.

It was one of the hardest orders I'd ever had to follow, but I managed to obey like the good little soldier that I was. I went up to my cabin, changed out of my hardsuit into my shipboard uniform, fed my fish and proceeded to go through the same e-mail twenty times without actually reading it. After a few hours I gave up. So I went down to the armoury and started performing maintenance on my sniper rifle. And by maintenance I mean disassembling and reassembling it over and over again.

At some point, Jacob walked in. It took a couple tries before he got my attention.

"I was just finishing my meal when Dr. Chakwas came out of surgery," he said.

"And?" I pounced.

He looked at my sniper rifle, which had been taken apart again. "Maybe we should find a change of scenery before you start disassembling everything else here."

He motioned for me to follow him. We walked out of the armoury and into the comm room.

"We've done what we could for Garrus, but he took a bad hit," he said at last. "The docs stabilized his injuries and fixed him up with surgical procedures and some cybernetics. Best we can tell, he'll have full functionality, but—"

He broke off as the doors hissed open. Garrus strode in. "Shepard," he greeted me.

I just stared at him. There was a huge chunk that had been taken out of the collar of his hardsuit. A large patch of skin plate had been scraped off his right mandible, exposing raw dermis underneath. And his jaw was now covered in a circular patch that looked like a weird fusion between a cloth bandage and an artificial joint.

But Garrus was standing. He was moving. He was talking.

He was _back_.

Jacob let out a chuckle. "Tough son of a bitch. Didn't think you'd be up yet."

"Nobody would give me a mirror," Garrus complained, walking into the room. "How bad is it?"

At last, I recovered enough to swallow the lump that had mysteriously developed in my throat, crossed my arms and pasted a smirk on my face. "Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face-paint on there and no one will even notice."

"Ha-argh!" Garrus laughed briefly before clutching his jaw and wincing. "Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is. Probably for the best, though. Everyone was always ignoring you and hitting on me. Time for you to get a fair shot at it."

I just shook my head in admiration. The guy had been taking on every merc he could find for months, almost got killed for his troubles, gained a few new scars in the process and still had time to crack jokes. Guess he'd taken some of my lessons to heart.

Jacob surmised that the two of us wanted to talk alone. He gave me a salute, nodded to Garrus, and left the room. Garrus waited until he left before he spoke again. "Frankly, I'm more worried about you," he said in a more serious tone. "Cerberus, Shepard? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?"

"Remember them?" I snorted. "I _am_ one of those experiments. They spent two years and over four billion credits bringing me back, plus who knows how many building a new Normandy and stocking her with a full crew, so I could figure out why the Collectors are abducting human colonies."

"I'd heard about that," Garrus acknowledged, "though I didn't know the Collectors were behind it. Until I arrived on Omega, I'd always thought the Collectors were just myths and legends."

"Well they're not," I confirmed. "And for some reason, they've taken an unhealthy interest in humanity. At some point, I'm going to have to go after them and chastise them. That's why I'm glad you're here, Garrus. If I'm walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side."

"You realize this plan has _me _walking into hell, too," Garrus pointed out.

I offered him a sheepish grin.

"Hah. Just like old times," Garrus snickered. "I'm fit for duty whenever you need me, Shepard," he added. "I hear you don't have a gunnery officer yet?"

"That's right," I nodded. "Which is why EDI sealed off gunnery control. That's our—"

"The AI," Garrus interrupted. "I know. It told me where to find you. Lucky for you, I served as gunnery officer during the fleet rotation of my military service. Why don't I settle in and see what I can do at the forward batteries?"

"Sounds good," I nodded. "Good to have you back, Garrus."

"Good to be back."

* * *

><p>Not content to simply take Garrus's word for it, I waited long enough to research an upgrade or two in the tech lab before heading down to visit Dr. Chakwas in sickbay. That proved to be a short visit.<p>

"Commander, I expect you're here about Garrus?" She went on before I could open my mouth. "While I'd prefer that he stay behind for overnight observation, _technically_ he has recovered enough to move around. As long as you wait a day or so before dragging him into another fight, he should be fine. Physically, that is."

"Physically?" I echoed.

"I talked with him once he'd regained consciousness. To assess his alertness and cognitive status. He seems... troubled. Not that he'd admit it to most people, of course. But he might be willing to make an exception in your case."

"I'll go talk to him," I said.

"Good," Dr. Chakwas approved. "By the way, Shepard, did you get my e-mail?"

"Yeah. If I really need it and I have resources to spare, I'll look into it. Thanks."

"Of course, Commander."

I should explain that.

After Dr. Chakwas had recovered from our bout of drinking, she'd done some research into the effects of all my new implants on my physiology—specifically, my facial scarring. It seemed that aggressive actions and other activities consistent with a negative attitude would cause adverse reactions with my implants, exacerbating my scarring. Conversely, being a nice guy who's all zen and one with the universe would promote integration between the implants and my body, resulting in accelerated healing. Dr. Chakwas theorized that 'peaceful thoughts,' 'compassionate actions,' and maintaining a 'positive outlook' would ultimately cause my facial scars to heal and fade away on their own. If I didn't want to wait, though, she'd downloaded schematics for medical equipment that would insulate my cybernetic implants and remove my scars—regardless of how nice or mean a guy I was. **(9)**

Anyways, I took her cue and went straight to gunnery control. As I passed by, one of the crewmen—I think his name was Hawthorne—called out. "Rupert, there's something different with tonight's meal. Seems like you put in more food and less ass."

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking," the mess sergeant replied.

Nice to see the crew was enjoying the new rations.

Garrus was hard at work, talons flying over the controls. "Garrus?"

"Shepard," he said, turning around. "Need me for something?"

"Just checking in," I shook my head. "Have the Cerberus crew given you any trouble?"

Garrus knew I was really asking whether any xenophobic bigots had been giving him grief. "I think being part of the team that took down Saren got me some points. Everyone I talk to has been polite, anyway. Don't worry, Commander. We're all working together."

"Have you got a minute?" I asked.

"Sure," he shrugged. "Just checking the weapons systems. You can never be too careful."

I walked over and leaned against the railing. "After spending all that time on Omega, I guess 'never being too careful' became something of a watchword, huh?"

"That's true," Garrus said. "I thought I'd seen every weapon in the galaxy in our fight against Saren. Especially with the way you went about searching for them."

Hey.

"But mercenary work showed me otherwise. And now Cerberus rebuilds the Normandy with a few upgrades to boot. I wish we'd joined up with them sooner."

"We haven't joined Cerberus," I replied immediately. "They're funding our mission. That's all."

"Relax, Shepard," Garrus said soothingly, raising his hand in a placating gesture. "Just a figure of speech. I can't exactly doubt your judgment. Not after I got my own squad killed."

"Tell me about your squad," I prompted.

"There were twelve of us, including me. Former military operatives, C-Sec agents, the usual. Had a salarian explosives expert. Pretty sure he'd spent time in the Special Tasks Group. My tech expert was a batarian, believe it or not. Not the friendliest guy, but he could hack any system ever built."

"What did your squad do?" I asked curiously. "It didn't sound like you were available for hire."

"You saw Omega—it was full of thugs kicking the helpless," Garrus responded. "I formed my team to kick back. We weren't mercenaries. At least, nobody was paying us. We made money by taking down slavers, pirates or gangs that went too far."

"That's it?"

"That's it. We didn't shake anyone down. No civilian casualties. That was our rule. Every member of my team had lost someone to Omega's gangs. We weren't out to get rich. We were out to make those bastards think twice before murdering someone in the street."

"Well it worked," I smiled. "It doesn't sound like you made any friends with the gangs."

"I got three separate merc bands to work together to take me down," Garrus agreed. "My manager at C-Sec would be impressed."

"How'd you organize your attacks?"

"It was simple. We'd hit their shipments, disrupt activities. Get under their skin. Make them angry. They'd come charging right into our well-prepared kill-zone. Crossfire and snipers, clean and surgical. They never stood a chance."

"It sounds like you did an excellent job on Omega," I commended him. "But I still don't understand why you were there in the first place. Weren't you going back to the Citadel?"

"I did," Garrus sighed. "I trained to become a Spectre after the Normandy was destroyed, but it didn't work out. Too much politicking at the Citadel. Nobody was willing to take risks. I even tried going back to C-Sec, but with all the rebuilding at the Citadel, there was too much chaos for me to really help. Omega was filled with criminals nobody else could touch, and there was no red tape to slow me down. It was a perfect fit. People here needed someone to believe in. Someone to stand up to the local thugs." **(10)**

"That explains how _you _started," I said. "How'd you end up with a squad?"

"Not too different from how you formed your squad to fight Saren, actually. You prove that you get things done, and people join up. Mercs who wanted to atone. Security consultants tired of playing by the rules. I gave them hope.

"And now they're dead," he finished quietly. "Shows what I know."

That was the second time he mentioned the fate of his squad. It didn't take a genius to figure out that was the little thing I'd sensed earlier and Dr. Chakwas picked up on. I remembered how guilty he'd felt when Ashley gave her life on Virmire, mainly because he was her team leader at the time. Multiply that by eleven... "How did those merc gangs take down your team?"

Garrus shook his head. "It was my own damn fault. One of my people betrayed me."

He walked away, stopping just outside gunnery control. I followed him from behind, so I could listen without crowding him. "A turian named Sidonis," he explained at last. "He drew me away just before the mercs attacked my squad, then he disappeared. Everyone except me is dead because of him. And because I didn't see it coming."

"I'm not sure I understand. What happened, exactly?"

"Sidonis asked for my help on a job. When I got to the meeting point, nobody was there. By the time I got back to our hideout, the mercs had killed all but two of my squad. And they didn't last long."

"Are you sure it was a betrayal?" I queried. "Maybe they took Sidonis out first."

He shook his head again. "No. I've put out feelers with some old contacts. He booked transport off Omega just before the attack. He also cleared out his private accounts before he left. He sold me out and ran."

Okay, maybe it _was_ starting to look that way. "Do you know where Sidonis is now?"

"No. His trail vanishes after he leaves Omega," Garrus replied. "But I'll keep hunting. I lost my whole team, except for Sidonis. One day I'll find him... and correct that."

What did he mean by that, I wondered. And a better question: did I _really _want to know the answer? Even me, with my insatiable curiosity?

Before I could muster the will or courage to ask, Garrus abruptly ended the conversation. "Thanks for coming by, Shepard," he said hurriedly, striding back into gunnery control. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some things to take care of."

* * *

><p>Garrus wasn't really interested in any further conversation other than business, so that's what we talked about. It seemed that the weapons had been given a slight upgrade from the SR-1 specs, but he wasn't convinced they would hold up against a Collector attack. He had some specs for a new 'Thanix Cannon' that might do the trick. <strong>(11)<strong> There were two problems: I didn't have enough platinum on hand, and it would require docking at a station to install the components. The first problem I could solve. Time to do some strip mining.

Back in the day, I'd just find resources, note their location and send the coordinates off to the Alliance Geological Service in exchange for credits. And I was too lazy to explore every nook and cranny, sticking instead to those systems that had a mass relay. This time, though, I actually needed those resources. So I'd have to do some more digging. Figuratively, that is.

First, I had to get to the systems where those planets were found. Sometimes, it was just a simple matter of hopping through a mass relay. Other times, I'd actually have to cross the vast expanse between systems. Then I had to get into a planet's orbit and use the Normandy's mineral scanner to examine it for mineral deposits. Once I found one, I could fire off a probe to mine the deposit and bring the minerals back to me.

Sounds easy, right? Actually, there was a catch. Figures, I know. Anyways, zipping between systems that had interconnecting mass relays was free. Cruising to and from systems that _didn't _have mass relays used up fuel—which I had to pay for. And I could only get fuel at fuel depots, which were sometimes—not always—in systems that held mass relays. Second: each probe cost 20 credits. And I could only get them in packets of up to five. Even if I only needed two, too bad—I'd still be charged 100 credits.

Bottom line, I had to be really efficient about cruising around, and I couldn't afford to strip mine every single planet. In the end, I restricted myself to mining from planets that had a lot of deposits. Even then, I only mined the richest and largest ones. And that still took a lot of time—I spent more hours than I care to remember at the CIC, staring at planet mineralogical data until my eyes dried out.

While I did that, I kept thinking about Garrus. What he had gone through. What he was still going through. I thought about him while I was scanning for minerals. I thought about him while researching all sorts of nifty upgrades for the ship and the squad. I thought about him when I dropped by Omega again to buy a disgustingly expensive sniper rifle upgrade. And I kept arriving at the same conclusion.

I broke the news to Miranda first. "How is Garrus?" she asked.

"That's actually why I came here," I replied. "The squad's large enough now to split into two fire-teams. I want Garrus to lead one of them."

"Interesting," she replied. "'Archangel' was originally brought to our attention _because _of his tactical and strategic expertise, and that was before we discovered that he was your old squad mate. Still, he seemed... distracted. And not just because he was mentally and physically exhausted."

"Yeah, there's a reason for that," I started before a thought occurred to me. "I'm surprised you don't know that. I mean, there are bugs all over the Normandy. Didn't some of them pick up my conversation with Garrus?"

"Probably," she shrugged. "But my duties don't allow enough time for me to peruse every single recording. EDI scans them and sends me any logs that are flagged with certain keywords. Otherwise, they're sent to Cerberus through burst transmissions for further analysis and storage."

Makes sense, I guess. Still don't like the reminder that virtually every move I make is being recorded in real-time.

I quickly gave her a brief synopsis of my talk with Garrus, and my concerns about his desire to track down Sidonis.

"In short, Garrus seems to feel that he's lost his mojo because he let his squad die," I concluded.

"It sounds like there were a few things that he could have done differently, but nothing that would have made a significant difference," Miranda frowned. "I'm more concerned with his obsession over this 'Sidonis.' This could prove a liability to the squad and the mission."

"That's another reason why I want him to lead," I pressed. I knew she was probably thinking that I just didn't want a Cerberus representative leading one of the teams. She was right, but that wasn't the point. "Look, you directed my resurrection back on Lazarus Station and you're doing an outstanding job fulfilling your responsibilities as XO. You've established your leadership credentials."

"And Garrus?" Miranda prompted.

"Garrus needs something to prove that he can still be an effective leader. To himself, if nothing else. Otherwise, he'll keep nursing his failures and go all 'Ahab' to Sidonis's 'Moby.'" **(12)**

Miranda apparently understood my obscure literary reference as well as my rationale. "And if that is not enough?"

"Leave that to me."

"Very well," she relented. "You'll still be squad leader, so you can gauge his level of distraction and address it if necessary. I'd recommend that you attach Jacob, Mordin and Kasumi to his command. That will provide a balanced skill set for both teams."

"Good to see we had the same plan," I approved.

Having worked that out, I headed back to my cabin. Remembering how my earlier talk with Miranda touched on all those bugs that are floating around, I checked the status of the lone bug that I left behind. Someone had figured out that I tampered with it and switched the feed back to my room. I redirected the signal to the hangar bay before scrolling through all the new e-mails I got. Cerberus wanted me to go do this and that. Yeah, yeah.

Emily Wong said hi and was wondering if she could have an exclusive interview with me at some point. Apparently she—like most people—was under the impression I'd been on a deep cover assignment for the past two years.

Next one came from Samesh Bhatia. His wife was one of the marines who died on Eden Prime and I helped him retrieve her body. He opened the restaurant that his wife had planned to open after her tour was over and implemented a little deal that allowed Alliance soldiers to eat for free—as a token of appreciation. Nice touch. What surprised me was that Udina was the one who offered to send the message on his behalf. Either he wasn't feeling well or the sour cranky-pants was willing to extend a nice gesture as long as I was out of sight.

I also got this e-mail:

_From: Jonn Whitson_

_Hey, Aria gave me this address. I think I met you at Afterlife on Omega. You stopped me from joining up with those mercs who were trying to take out Archangel._

_Man, I was pissed off at you. I got blind drunk that night, and it was a few days later before I got it together enough to check the news vids and saw that almost all those mercs had gotten killed by Archangel._

_I don't know who you are or if you got out of there alive yourself, but thanks. I felt really stupid when I heard about the body count, and how I could have been part of it. I'll make the most with what you did for me._

_Jonn Whitson_

Will wonders never cease.

* * *

><p><em>(1): The reports filed by the rest of Shepard's squad indicated that he also flashed a wide grin that spread from ear to ear and gave a slight jump that could have been a prelude to a dance of celebration. <em>

_(2): Several sources, including Shepard himself, noted how Garrus viewed him as something of a mentor. Therefore, it is quite interesting to see Garrus be embarrassed by his newfound reputation, much like Shepard is._

_(3): This drawback was the primary reason why use of mechs were restricted to situations where there was no other alternative or there were enough mechs to compensate for one or two getting hacked. _

_(4): An old euphemism for 'retreat,' frequently used as it was less cumbersome to say than 'discretion is the better part of valour.' __[He's cute when he's anal.]_

_(5): While Shepard made light of many things, he tended to take the professional behaviour of a sniper quite seriously._

_(6): Or maybe it was the way Tarak dealt with Garrus, an old friend and comrade who he'd only been reunited with for a short time, so decisively. _

_(7): By this point, Shepard had used more grenades in the last month than he had during the entire duration of his mission to hunt down Saren Arterius. _

_(8): Turians possess hemocyanin in their blood, rather than the haemoglobin found in human blood, which explains why turian blood looks blue. This is consistent with the metallic exoskeleton and other aspects of their biology. _

_(9): This theory of 'mind over matter' may seem remarkably simplistic, but was ultimately accurate. By this point, most of Shepard's scars had healed. Within a few weeks, they were all gone._

_(10): At the time of this conversation, the Normandy was still orbiting Omega._

_(11): During a joint effort by human and turian volunteers to remove debris from the Citadel's orbit, the turian Office of Technological Reconnaissance secretly salvaged Sovereign's main weapon and large amounts of its element zero core. They discovered that this core powered an electromagnetic field that suspended an iron-uranium-tungsten alloy in molten liquid form and accelerated it to a fraction of light speed upon firing. Therefore, Sovereign's weapon was more akin to a mass-accelerator weapon that dealt damage through impact force and extreme heat than a directed energy weapon. Within eight months, the turians produced their own version, which they called the Thanix Magnetic-Hydrodynamic Weapon. This weapon was equal to a cruiser's firepower, but was small enough to mount on a frigate._

_(12): A reference to 'Moby Dick,' a novel by human author Hermann Melville that was published in 1851._


	10. Personnel Report: Zaeed Massani

_Editorial Note: This personnel report was written shortly after his recruitment drive on Omega, and examines Shepard's thoughts on Zaeed Massani in general and one mission in particular._

**Personnel Report—Zaeed Massani**

Zaeed's a living example of why that ol' chestnut "don't judge a book by its cover" is still relevant. There was more to him than your run-of-the-mill, brutally efficient bounty hunter.

Kelly was one of the first people to notice that, and made a point of mentioning it while telling me that I'd received new e-mail.

"By the way, I bumped into Zaeed recently," she said.

Must have been _real _recent, given that we'd just recruited him and Mordin. "And?" I prompted.

"Quite the character. Given how much violence and destruction that man's seen, he's surprisingly well-adjusted. Still... I wouldn't want to be alone with him."

Apparently the feeling was mutual, because he did a real good job of hiding himself. That's quite the feat, given how thoroughly I scour every nook and cranny for crew to harass. It was near the end of my daily rounds that I found him. He'd set up shop in the Starboard Cargo Area, which was something of a misnomer since most of our cargo was either in the Port Cargo Area or the Hangar. The only things worth noting in the Starboard Cargo Area—before Zaeed moved in—was a video surveillance monitor and a trash compactor. I couldn't tell you why that room had that peculiar combination of items. No one else on the Normandy could either. **(1) **

Anyways, back to Zaeed. He was quite willing to "wax goddamn nostalgic" about past bounties, old missions, or the stories behind the various knick-knacks that he'd scattered around the room. He kept his stories short, telling them in a soft voice with a slight rasp. Like the time when he and a buddy got lured into a trap and he almost got choked to death by a hanar. Or the delights of a batarian prison.

He got particularly choked up about this old assault rifle of his. "Hey, don't touch," he said when I moved to pick it up. "That rifle's older than you are. I call her Jessie."

"Jessie?" I echoed.

"Yeah. That's my lucky charm. More men have been killed with that gun than died during the Skyllian Blitz."

Given that I unwillingly got a front-row seat to the Blitz, that's saying something.

"The day I laid her to rest was the saddest day of my life," he muttered despondently. "I'd give up every weapon I own for one more mission with that shitty old rifle." **(2) **

Yeah, Zaeed had a lot of war stories to tell. But there was one tale that he kept to himself. Naturally I learned about it when we went to Zorya.

* * *

><p>Zorya's a nice place, I guess. Lots of sun, warm tropical climate, and lush vegetation as far as the eye can see. Of course, you have to be careful not to choke to death on all the fungal spores. Or get shot by Blue Suns. The mercs apparently ran enough security contracts on Zorya to own a freakin' monopoly on the 'industry,' if you can call it that. Not to mention that they had politicians and judges were in their pocket, plus recruitment and training camps on every colony.<p>

So Zaeed just _had _to accept a contract to liberate some refinery from the Blue Suns on a planet that aforementioned mercs basically owned.

Zaeed immediately pulled out his assault rifle when the shuttle dropped us off. The rest of us followed suit. We'd only gone a couple paces when he paused and started fiddling with his omni-tool. "Tapping into Blue Suns communications," he explained. "Stay tight, and watch for ambushes."

We kept our eyes peeled while he fumbled around. After a minute, he cracked their encryption codes. Just in time for us to hear the following: "—mmand to Squad Bravo—a shuttle landed near your location. Check it out."

"So much for the element of surprise," Garrus said dryly.

"Keep close," Zaeed warned again.

Miranda was paying more attention to what was up ahead. "Is that what I think it is?"

If she was thinking of a trio of bodies sprawled on the ground, then the answer was yes.

Zaeed bent down and quickly assessed the bodies with an efficiency that could only come from lots of practise. "Shot in the back and left to rot," he spat. "That's definitely Vido's style. Let's push ahead."

It took me a moment to dredge up the name. Vido Santiago, head honcho of the Blue Suns. Apparently he'd taken a personal interest in taking over one of Eldfell-Ashland's refineries. Naturally the company wasn't too pleased with that, and hired Zaeed to correct matters.

While I was taking a stroll down memory lane, we were walking down a well-trodden path that meandered around granite boulders, gnarled tree roots and more leaves than I cared to count. I came back to reality after stumbling over one particularly tricky root, barely catching myself in time. That'd be real heroic—thwarted by a stupid piece of fauna.

The Blue Suns we heard earlier spoke again over the comm frequency Zaeed hacked into. "Command to Bravo. Take a position. Likely these people are not runaways."

I think everyone tightened their grips on their weapons at that point. As far as missions go, this wasn't going so well. First they detected our shuttle. Then they figured out that we weren't a bunch of civvies who were trying to play hooky. Now they suspected that we could cause some trouble and were lying in wait for us. It was hard to imagine how things could get any worse.

Then we rounded the corner and entered a clearing. One with a bunch of large crates scattered in strategically placed positions, a catwalk protruding out from a rock face on the far end—supported by a stack of criss-crossing girders—and a lot of Blue Suns mercs.

"Report to base! Armed intruders incoming at the southern checkpoint!"

Aw, crap. You'd think that I would have learned to stop tempting Fate by now.

I led the squad to the nearest bit of cover, where I promptly discovered two things. One, it was only big enough to shelter half of us. Two, Garrus had been taking point, so his squad got there first. _That _meant Miranda, Zaeed and I had to find cover behind a tall pillar, about ten metres _closer _to all the bad guys who were enthusiastically trying to kill us.

Swell.

One of the Blue Suns ran out, his shields disabled and his hardsuit heavily damaged. I absently set him on fire without a second thought, pulled out my sniper rifle and started scanning for targets. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miranda point off in the distance and Zaeed nodding. A second later, she dropped an EMP, which Zaeed quickly followed up with a concussive round. The shocked cry, followed by an indecipherable gurgle, told me we wouldn't have to deal with that guy any time soon.

I spared a moment to glance behind us. Garrus seemed to have things under control. From what I could tell, he and Kasumi were taking turns in knocking out enemy shields, leaving them open for Mordin to set them on fire or Jacob levitating them up in the air. That made it much easier for them to riddle the mercs with holes.

Well, it would've if my team wasn't so greedy and kept beating them to the punch.

I leaned out to see if there were any other mercs, only to hastily duck back as a rocket whistled past my face. Looking up, I saw a Blue Suns toting a rocket launcher. I kept an eye on her over the next minute, getting a feel for her firing patterns. She seemed to like firing rockets off in pairs, then waiting a moment to gauge the impact of her shots. I waited until she sent off another volley, then cloaked, popped up and steadied myself. One squeeze of the trigger, and she went down.

"Scoped and dropped," Garrus crowed.

Everyone seemed to have relaxed. Everyone except Zaeed, that is.

"This ain't right," he muttered. "There should've been more of them stationed here. If not, then they must have a way of getting reinforcements here in a jiffy."

Made sense. "Everyone stay where they are," I ordered over the comm. "I'm going to go scout around, make sure nobody's coming."

I'd just stepped out from my little hidey-hole when we intercepted another communications from the Blue Suns. "Reinforcements incoming," a woman said. "We got your backs!"

"Scratch that," I grunted, crouching back down and peering around. My HUD said there were bad guys en route, but I couldn't see them. Team Two didn't have that problem, because I saw an EMP blow out some merc shields in a storm of sparks.

It was as if someone had turned the light on. Now that I knew where to focus, I could glimpse a couple Blue Suns troopers hiding behind some crates in the distance. I waited until one of them moved a bit more to the left before incinerating his ass with a nice little ball of plasma.

I still couldn't see anything from my vantage point, so I moved to another location. Ducking a rocket from yet another Blue Suns heavy support guy, I saw a Blue Suns slowly creeping towards us. No doubt he was trying to avoid attracting any attention. Or spill the contents of his flamethrower prematurely. Without saying a word, I sent an order for Kasumi to overload the flamethrower containment systems. The poor sap didn't even have a chance to cry out in shock before his flamethrower exploded in a nice cheery fireball.

"Enemies in front!" Miranda warned suddenly.

Good thing, too. One of those FENRIS mechs was trotting around, trying to get the jump on us. Miranda, Zaeed and I leaned out and unleashed a full volley at it. Didn't quite kill the mechanical mutt, but it bought us enough time for Zaeed to load another concussive round and finish it off.

"We're getting torn to shreds out here!" someone yelled.

That guy was onto something, I had to admit. Even if he didn't live long enough to reap the benefits of his observation. By this point, most of the Blue Suns were dead. There was just that one lone heavy support guy—or gal—keeping us pinned down with rocket fire.

Well, most of us. I sneaked around to her flank, cloaked and charged. A couple quick punches and a single shot from my pistol, and it was all over.

After consulting my HUD to make sure we were clear, I started my typical round of scrounging. It didn't take too long, since I'd automatically noted the goodies that the Blue Suns had carelessly left behind while running around like the proverbial headless chicken. As I scooped up a PDA containing a nice supply of creds and a med-kit, I absent-mindedly noted some Blue Suns frantically yelling at all the other squads to fall back.

Without anything else to find, I led the squad out of the clearing and down a walkway that ran alongside a cliff. It looked like the refinery was on the other side. Thankfully, there was a retractable bridge nearby, complete with an accompanying set of controls. It didn't take long for me to figure out how it worked and start extending the bridge.

As it noisily started rumbling out, we heard someone snapping orders over the Blue Suns frequency Zaeed had tapped. Sounded like one of the guys we'd heard over the comm earlier. "This is Commander Santiago," he identified himself. "If any of you retreat while the intruders are still alive, I'll kill you myself."

Nice guy.

Zaeed motioned for me to stop the controls so we could hear more clearly, and I complied. Not that it mattered—as it turned out, Vido didn't have much more to say other than "Now get the hell back out there."

"Vido," Zaeed growled. "Sounds like he hasn't changed."

"Why do I get the feeling you know this Vido?" I asked.

"I knew he was a sadistic bastard back when we started the Blue Suns," he admitted.

"Wait a sec," I held up a hand, wondering if I had misheard things. "You and Vido _founded _the Blue Suns?"

"And the Suns only got meaner after he staged his little coup twenty years ago," he confirmed. "Guess you could say we have a past."

"I didn't know that," I said. "About you and the Blue Suns. Why didn't anyone ever mention it?"

"Because it's not common knowledge. Vido wiped me out of the records," Zaeed spat in frustration. "He ran the books, I led the men. Worked real well for a while. Then Vido decided to start hiring batarians. Cheaper labour, he said. Goddamn terrorists, I said."

"And you've been looking to get back for twenty years," I asked without thinking. "Isn't that a bit long to hold a grudge?"

Zaeed's eyes widened and his entire body seemed to tremble.

Oops.

"A _grudge_?" he blazed. "Vido turned _my men_ against me." He emphasized his point by stabbing a finger into my chest. "He paid six of them to restrain me while he put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger! For twenty years, I've seen that bastard every time I closed my eyes. Every time I sighted down on a target. Every time I heard a gunshot. Don't you call that a goddamned 'grudge.'"

Some people would be apologetic about offending him. Some people would be worried that he'd take out his anger on them.

Because my curiosity outweighed my etiquette or common sense, I just asked him "You survived a gunshot to the head?"

Zaeed didn't seem to see why that was so surprising. "Yeah. And you survived your ship getting disintegrated. A stubborn enough person can survive just about anything."

Fair enough.

"Rage is a hell of an anaesthetic," he concluded.

"We'd better get moving," I said after a while, hitting the bridge controls again. Zaeed nodded silently.

As the bridge finished extending, Vido spammed the comm frequencies again: "They're at the southern access. All squads mass at the gatehouse! Now!"

"They know we're here," Zaeed said softly before raising his voice. "Bring it on, you son of a bitch!" he yelled out to the jungle.

* * *

><p>The path to the gatehouse was quite tranquil, going up and curving back and forth and all amongst all the jungle fauna. Not that I could appreciate it, as I was keeping my eyes out for any nasty predators or mercs or loot—oh! Free palladium? Don't mind if I do.<p>

As cautious as we were, we still got to the gatehouse in good time. No one was there to greet us. Guess the party was inside.

"Garrus, lead Team Two past the gatehouse, around to the other side of the refinery," I ordered. "See if there's another way in. If there is, we'll wait until you're ready, then we'll hit them from both sides."

"Understood," he said crisply. Jacob, Kasumi and Mordin fell in line behind him as they jogged off.

Alone now, Miranda, Zaeed and I settled in to wait. A minute passed. Two. Three—

"That's it," Zaeed said abruptly.

Before we knew it, he was marching off to the gatehouse doors. "Zaeed," I whispered. "Get back here!"

He ignored me.

"Zaeed!"

I glanced at Miranda, barely stifling a curse in time. She shook her silently and tilted her head towards Zaeed. Motioning for her to follow me, I jogged towards Zaeed, activating the comm in the process. "Garrus, you read me?"

"Loud and clear."

I double-checked to see that we were on a private frequency before spilling the beans. No sense having everyone else get the whole story just yet and eroding squad cohesion even more. "Zaeed's decided that we're heading in now. Have your team hit the refinery whenever you find another access point."

"Understood."

Miranda and I caught up to Zaeed just as he was entering the gatehouse. Basically a glorified set of walls with a ceiling, a ton of pipes snaking everywhere and a catwalk full of Blue Suns.

One of them stood in the centre, arms crossed. He scowled down on us, his dusky features full of contempt. "Zaeed Massani," he smirked. "You finally tracked me down."

"Vido," Zaeed growled, his finger tightening on his assault rifle.

"Don't be stupid, Zaeed. I have a whole company of bloodthirsty bastards behind me, ready to kill or be killed on my command."

As Vido went about boasting, I noticed Zaeed's eyes shift to the left. Too quick for me to track what he had spotted. All I could see, without drawing too much attention, was a bunch of pipes and an open side door in the gatehouse.

At some point, Vido apparently changed his mind. "Actually, take your shot," he said, a confident grin slowly spreading over his swarthy face. "Give my men a reason to put you down like the mad dog you are. _Again_."

Zaeed complied, running off to the left while firing up at the catwalk, and missing all the mercs in the process. I frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't surprising that Zaeed missed while firing on the run. Firing a weapon isn't as easy as it looks, even when standing still. However, Zaeed seemed to have gripped his rifle to compensate for any loss in accuracy. So why did he miss?

"What was that?" Vido laughed. "Gone nearsighted, old friend?"

I took a closer look. Zaeed's shots hadn't accomplished anything beyond punching a couple holes in the pipes behind the mercs...

Aw, crap. He didn't miss.

Zaeed offered a cold grin to his former colleague. "Burn, you son of a bitch," he hissed before firing a short round.

His shots ricocheted off the pipes, bringing up a bunch of sparks. Only one of them was needed to ignite the gas escaping from the pipes. The whole gatehouse shook as a torrent of flame gushed out from the pipes, knocking Vido and the mercs off their feet.

Miranda and I hastily took cover behind a set of crates. I glared at Zaeed, who just looked at us with that damn grin on his face.

Vido clambered back to his feet, his face twisted with fury. "You just signed your death warrant, Massani!" he said bleakly. With that, he ran off, leaving the other mercs to open fire. Miranda and I ducked, making room for Zaeed to join us.

Instead, he remained standing, out in the open. Reversing his grip on the assault rifle, he started banging on a valve with the butt. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.

Zaeed ignored me and all the gunfire rattling about, intent on whacking the heck out of the valve. It abruptly turned after the next whack, and we could all hear a loud hiss as more gas started gushing through the pipes. A second later, a series of explosions rang out, one by one. The mercs were flung over the catwalk, crying helplessly. The sounds they made when they hit the pavement below were completely masked by the roar of distant flames, the percussion of explosions and the shaking and trembling that were now going on constantly.

"Opening the gate," Zaeed said, answering my earlier question.

There was no denying that it worked, but he'd just made things a hell of a lot more complicated. I marched up to him angrily. "We're here to free these people," I said. "Why the hell would you blow up the refinery?"

"What? You deaf now, Shepard?" the bounty hunter snorted. "We needed a way in. Now we got one."

"You could have waited for Garrus and the others," I pointed out.

"While they could wander around in the jungle for hours?" he scoffed. "You want to waste time out here, go ahead. I'm going to kill Vido."

My fist clenched. This guy was gonna get me killed. _Again._ Of all the stupid, short-sighted, _idiotic_...

Zaeed saw what I was doing. "You really want to do this, Shepard?" he warned.

"I ought to beat the crap out of you," I told him. "But thanks to you, we have a burning refinery to save."

"Let these people burn!" Zaeed cried out. "Vido dies, whatever the cost!"

With my luck, that cost would be another two years and four billion credits.

* * *

><p>The three of us made our way through the gatehouse, scooping up some palladium in the process. We bumped into a pair of Blue Suns—turians, by the look of it—but they didn't present much of a problem. Once we were out, we followed the walkway towards the refinery, which snaked around a particularly thick section of piping. I glanced back behind me to make sure Miranda and Zaeed were keeping up...<p>

...and almost fell as a section of the walkway collapsed, just to my left. I righted myself just in time and kept going, keeping my eyes peeled. For once, I didn't find any more trouble. Just some more palladium. Lucky me.

We were about to enter the refinery when someone called out behind us. Looking back and up, we saw a man stumble out from the side of the refinery onto a catwalk above us.

"Help!" he yelled hoarsely. "We're trapped! We can't get to the gas valves to shut them off. The whole place is gonna blow!" He flinched as another explosion sent a plate of metal clanging down to the catwalk beside him.

"No time," Zaeed said. "Vido's probably halfway to the shuttle docks by now."

Zaeed was right in that Vido had a head start and knew the terrain. If we were ever gonna catch up to him, we had to start now. Still, I had to ask him "You're willing to watch these people die?"

"Damn right I am," he scowled. "We stop to help these people, and Vido gets away. And if he does, I'm blaming you," he warned softly.

"Garrus," I stalled, contacting him on the comm. "The Blue Suns leader, Vido Santiago, is on the run. Probably heading to the shuttle docks. You see anything like that?"

"Shepard," Garrus called out over a hail of gunfire. "Can't see anything except mercs firing at us. We'll try to make our way over there, but it won't be easy."

"Understood," I replied.

"Well?" Zaeed raised an eyebrow. "What's it gonna be?"

It would be really bad for my rep to leave all these workers to cook. Besides, the more time I spent rescuing them, the less likely I'd be to run into mercs. That's what I told myself, anyways.

Miranda probably would be fine with either decision. Zaeed, however, would need a little more convincing. So I reached out to Zaeed, grabbed the collar of his hardsuit and pulled him towards me. "We're here to free these people," I told him. "We're going in. Understood?"

Zaeed brushed an imaginary piece of soot off his hardsuit. "I knew this was a mistake," he shook his head. "Fine. If we're gonna do this, we'd better get to it."

After consulting my hardsuit scans of the area, I vaulted over the railing to another catwalk below us. It headed away from the refinery and down some stairs before taking a right towards a locked side entrance. I made a move for the door panel, only to get knocked to the side as some piece of equipment to my left exploded. Recovering my equilibrium, I tried again. This time, I made it to the door, bypassed the lock and got us inside.

The interior of the refinery was stark and industrial, with metal grating for floors and masses of pipes lining the walls. We headed for a nearby set of stairs, dodging a control panel that exploded into flame. Looking around, the only way to go was through a door at the top of the stairs.

So that's where we went. Another explosion right in front of us punctuated just how close this place was to blowing sky-high. Still, we were making good progress so far

Then we opened the door.

Yet another explosion blew out, sending a billowing wave of flame in our direction. Hastily, the three of us ducked back. Waving away the smoke, I could see a gust of fire billowing in front of the entrance, with a wall of smoke beyond it. Holding my breath, I braced an arm in front of my face and charged through.

When I lowered my arm, I saw we were in another room full of large pipes. The only difference was this one was on fire. All those flames were the only source of illumination in the damn place—guess all those explosions had knocked out the lights.

"There," Miranda said over the flames, pointing with her finger.

Following her lead, I found one of the fuel valves, next to a set of stairs that went up and over a particularly large pipe. As I moved to turn it off, Zaeed went by me. I studied the controls long enough to figure out how to turn it off, did so and followed Zaeed before his quest for vengeance led him too far.

Surprisingly, he hadn't gone too far. He was behind a stack of crates, turning off another fuel valve. While I was waiting for him, I climbed over another pipe and scouted around for the next fuel valve. I couldn't find it from my vantage point, but I did find the next best thing.

Miranda and Zaeed caught up with me as I was prying it loose.

"Seriously?" Miranda asked.

Zaeed was a little more verbose: "First you waste my time rescuing these refinery workers. Then you waste my time grabbing some goddamn salvage?"

With a grunt, I finally pulled the generator pipe free. "Don't knock it," I protested. "According to these readings, this baby's worth 6000 credits." **(3) **

"Whatever," Zaeed said abruptly. "Can we get a move-on already?"

"Fine," I replied, consulting my scanners. Looked like there was one more fuel valve, which we could access by climbing yet another flight of stairs. Seriously, it was like someone let the pipes run rampant and _then _decided to install ways to get around as an afterthought.

"Upstairs! The fire extinguisher controls are upstairs!"

Looking around, I saw a bunch of workers frantically waving at me from a window about two floors up. "Why are you still here?" I called out.

"The doors won't open until the fire's out," one of them yelled back.

Right. They were trapped and couldn't get out. How did I forget that?

I blame the explosions.

Adjusting my scanners, I quickly IDed the last fuel valves and ran to shut it off, ignoring another refinery worker who'd convinced himself that they were all going to die. Now that the valves were off, all we had to do was activate the fire extinguishers. Naturally, that meant we had to go up and down and up more sets of stairs, with explosions and smoke all around us.

It turned out that the fire extinguisher controls were at the top level of this snake pit of pipes. All we had to do was jog across the floor and enter the control room—

A shudder ran through the building, almost knocking us to our knees, as yet another explosion rang out. This time, it dropped a flaming pipe right in front of us, cutting off our intended route. Thankfully, there was a catwalk that ran along the wall, which neatly detoured around this obstacle.

Once we got to the other side, I was about to make a bee-line for the control room when I spotted a small stack of palladium from the corner of my eye. Naturally I had to go pick it up first. Then, once we entered the control room, I spotted a heavy weapons upgrade. Naturally I had to pick that up, too. Finally, we made it to the controls and activated the fire extinguishers.

We heard a gushing sound as water and fire retardants poured from overhead sprinklers onto the fires below. The fires sizzled and steamed in defiance, making me a bit worried that all our efforts were for naught. In the end, however, the fires dwindled and died away.

Leaving the room, we could see the refinery workers below, stumbling out from a room coughing and choking. One by one, they headed for a door, presumably towards fresh air and freedom.

"Great," Zaeed said sarcastically. "Look at us playing big goddamn heroes. Can we go kill Vido now?"

"Sure," I shrugged nonchalantly.

* * *

><p>"Ooh, what's that?"<p>

It had been a couple minutes since we'd resumed our search for Vido. So far, all we had to show for our efforts was another stack of palladium. No Vido. No mechs. No Blue Suns.

Well, not unless you count the guy whose chest got crushed by a falling pipe.

What caught my eye was the weapon he'd dropped. Looked like some kind of flamethrower. I picked it up and pulled the trigger. A spray of flame gushed out from the nozzle, extending about a couple metres in front of me. Could make for a nasty short-range weapon. Personally, I'd prefer something that could reach out a little farther.

Since all the weapon slots on my hardsuit were already taken, I jury-rigged a sling to carry it along. Not the most secure thing, but it felt like it would hold the potentially volatile weapon. It was then that I detected two more hostiles in the adjoining room.

From the look of things, the room had two entrances. Silently, I motioned for Miranda and Zaeed to move ahead and enter through the far entrance. I'd tackle the other one. I waited for them to get into position before giving the signal.

In unison, we burst into the room. As soon as we confirmed they were hostiles, we opened fire. The suckers never stood a chance.

I spared a moment to scour the room for goodies, and came up with some servos and power cells for my trouble. Zaeed spent the time scowling at me, tapping his fingers against the barrel of his assault rifle. Miranda busied herself poking through a datapad one of the mercs had dropped.

"Found anything?" I asked.

"The shuttle bay," Miranda confirmed. "There's a gunship there, fuelled and ready for lift-off."

"Where?" Zaeed asked impatiently.

"Over there," she replied, pointing to a door at the far end of the room, "through the refinery core."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Zaeed demanded. "A bloody invitation?"

"Nah," I grinned. "I'm more of a party-crasher myself."

On the count of three, we burst into the refinery core. As one might imagine, there were lots of pipes snaking around the place. This time, though, there weren't too many stairs in the way, mostly because there were several spots that were devoid of pipes—namely the centre of the room and the various entrances to the core.

Miranda, Zaeed and I found cover behind one of the pipes, which came up to our waist. We all knew that the Blue Suns were liable to come charging in any moment.

They did not disappoint.

As the first wave of mercs streamed in, Vido's voice rang out over some hidden loudspeakers. "First person to bring me Massani's head gets something special in their pay check!"

"Miranda, overload their shields whenever you can," I ordered. "Zaeed and I will cover you. Then you can join us in taking down some mercs."

"Right," she said crisply. She paused a moment, and then another, before firing off an EMP. She'd timed it perfectly—no less than three Blue Suns got their shields zapped when the pulse detonated. I promptly sent a fireball their way to keep them occupied, and then the three of us took them down while they were slapping the fires out.

I wish I could say that was it. Unfortunately, it was just the beginning. Six more Blue Suns had charged in while we were occupied, with more coming right behind them.

"Hey, Zaeed. I took your Blue Suns," Vido taunted. "I took your life. And now I'm taking it again."

Zaeed gritted his teeth, but the only thing he did was take out a merc's shields with clinical precision. Then he fiddled with his assault rifle, squinted through the scope and fired off a high-yield concussive round that exploded the guy's head like a melon. Well, a melon covered by a helmet. Not to be outdone, I took a couple headshots of my own with my sniper rifle.

"Let that loser die, Shepard," Vido urged. "You can walk outta here alive."

I guess while he was letting his minions do his fighting for him, he'd made use of his free time to look me up. I responded by sending a bolt of flame towards a Blue Suns who was trying to sneak up on us with a flamethrower. Watching the guy go up in flames as the fuel pack on his back exploded, I made a mental note to drop my own flamethrower off in the armoury as soon as possible.

Vido tried speaking to Zaeed again. "You never should've come here, Zaeed. Did you forget who you were dealing with?"

"Just you wait until I get my hands on you," Zaeed yelled back. "I wanna see if _you_ can survive a bullet to the head!"

I wasn't sure whether his retort was aimed at him or at the merc who'd scored a couple hits on him. Judging by the way they ricocheted off his helmet, I figured that his shields had been drained. "Zaeed," I called out. "Get down! You won't be able to catch Vido if his guys kill you first."

Zaeed glared at me, but grudgingly ducked behind the pipes. A rumble ran beneath our feet. At first I thought it was another explosion. Then I saw a stream of fire pouring down.

Looking up, I saw a fuel tank hanging from a conveyor belt or something on the ceiling, running back and forth along the length of the core. Something inside must've been jarred loose and ignited, as it was spraying its contents down. And it was heading our way.

Aw, crap.

I quickly sighted down on it and fired off a few shots. Then another. And another. Finally, it came tumbling down, exploding as it hit the floor. The Blue Suns who were trying to get close automatically flinched back. By the time they'd recovered, we were already filling them full of holes.

"That other fuel tank's coming loose!" Zaeed yelled at me. "Shoot it! Bring it down on top of 'em!"

Whirling around, I saw the fuel tank Zaeed was talking about, running on a parallel course to the tank I'd just taken out. I aimed my pistol and fired off the rest of the clip. This time, I managed to drop it right on top on one of the Blue Suns.

Spying another Blue Sun that was hiding behind a pipe, I grabbed my sniper rifle and took her out. Then I frowned. Something had caught my eye while I was centering my aim. Ignoring the firefight going on around me, I took another peek.

And my blood chilled. It was a YMIR heavy mech. Powered down and on the other end of the refinery core, thankfully, but we'd have to deal with it before we could get to Vido. I passed on the information to Miranda and Zaeed. Thankfully, they were professional enough to continue tag-teaming the remaining Blue Suns with only a muffled curse to signify that they'd heard me.

I launched a ball of plasma to light up another Blue Sun. The guy went up in flames, ran around for a second and then dropped to the ground...

...while the YMIR I'd spotted earlier stood up, turned around and started to clank our way.

One more time, everybody: Aw. Crap.

Making sure the disruptor mod was active on my sniper rifle, I cloaked, sighted on the mech's head and fired. Then I ducked, waited for my cloak to recover and fired again. I managed to squeeze off two more shots before the mech got close enough for my hardsuit scanners to assess its defences. I'd only whittled its shields down to half-strength. And it still had an intact set of armour plating to punch through before we could start damaging its innards.

The YMIR mech aimed in my direction, paused, and launched a rocket my way. I ducked behind the pipe and prayed for two things: that the pipe was sturdy and thick enough to withstand a rocket, and that nothing volatile was flowing through it right now.

For once, my prayers were answered. While the pipes took the brunt of the blast, Miranda launched an EMP at the mech, taking a sizeable dent out of its shields. Zaeed stuck with his assault rifle, sending a steady stream of bullets at its head.

The YMIR mech paused again, as if cogitating on who was the greater threat. Apparently Zaeed won out, as the YMIR started marching towards him. I pointed my sniper rifle at it, then cursed as I realized that a large floor-to-ceiling tank was blocking my line-of-sight.

By the time I moved to a better position, I was pleased to see that its shields were barely holding together. Then I saw Miranda moving to fire off another EMP.

"Miranda, hold off on the pulse," I called out. "Let Zaeed take out its shields, then start warping its armour."

Miranda glanced at me, nodded and lowered her arm. Instead, her fingers started twitching, going through the motions that she'd linked to generating biotic fields through countless hours of practise. For my part, I readied another burst of plasma from my omni-tool. We just had to hold out a little longer...

...and with a flash of sparks, the YMIR's shields collapsed. A second later, twin explosions of biotic energy and superheated plasma detonated against its armour. The YMIR actually staggered back a step before recovering. It lifted its arm, the one with the mass accelerator cannons and fired at Miranda. The bullets moved with such velocity, it sounded like one long, dull roar.

Her shields blinked out in a flash under the onslaught. Frantically, she dove for cover behind a curving section of pipes. Not knowing what else to do, I fired another shot from my sniper rifle, and then checked my omni-tool. Yep, enough time had passed to charge up another plasma round, which I promptly launched at the heavy mech.

The YMIR turned in my direction and aimed its rocket launcher at me. I quickly ran to the side, placing the tank that had blocked my aim earlier between us. I heard a dim roar, which I presumed came from the rocket detonating harmlessly against my chosen piece of cover.

I took a peek just in time to see Miranda surround the mech in another halo of biotics. Its armour split wide open with a loud crack. Encouraged, the three of us opened fire with everything we had at our disposal. We were almost there!

To my surprise, the YMIR came under more fire from another position. Glancing over, I was delighted to see Garrus and his fire-team taking cover behind a set of pipes in the distance. With that much firepower coming from so many angles, the YMIR didn't know where to aim first.

Time ran out for the mech before it could make a decision. After several minutes of onslaught, it dropped to its knees, slumped over and exploded. I reminded myself not to slump in relief. Bad for my rep to reveal that I was worried, right?

Instead, I scanned the room for any other threats, synthetic or otherwise. Seeing that we were clear, I stood up, motioning for Miranda and Zaeed to follow. The squad joined up again in the centre of the room.

"Good timing," I greeted Garrus.

"Well, we could have held back a little longer, I suppose," he replied. "More dramatic that way."

"Very funny," I said sourly.

"Yeah, yeah, good to see you," Zaeed interrupted. "You ready to do some more killing, Shepard?"

"Vido?" I asked.

"Vido," Zaeed confirmed grimly.

* * *

><p>We double-timed it to the shuttle bay, hoping we could get there in time.<p>

Alas, by the time we got there, the gunship Miranda had discovered earlier was in the midst of taking off. The gunship's doors were closing as we stormed out of the building.

"Not this time, Zaeed, you son of a bitch," Vido spat over the gunship's speakers. "See you in another twenty years!"

With that, the gunship took off, knocking us back several steps with its thruster exhaust. As I recovered my footing, Zaeed ran past me.

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH_!" he howled, firing helplessly after the rapidly retreating gunship. **(4)** He almost depleted a full clip before his weapon jammed. As I watched the gunship vanish, Zaeed bent over. A stream of curses flew out of his mouth as he started slamming the barrel of his assault rifle with his hand. After three or four whacks, a slug fell out, glowing with all the heat generated from the recent round of weapons fire.

Zaeed stood up and looked at me. His eyes narrowed.

Uh oh.

Zaeed whirled towards me, assault rifle at the ready. I pulled out my pistol on reflex, bringing the two of us into a nice little stand-off.

"You just cost me twenty years of my _life_!" he roared.

"Yeah," I said slowly, stalling for time while I could think of something to say. "About that..."

I broke off when I heard a hissing sound. It sounded like it was coming...

...beneath us?

Zaeed and I looked down simultaneously, just in time to see the stream of fuel that Zaeed's slug had landed in light up. A flash of flames raced back towards a nearby fuel tank built into the wall, which immediately exploded.

The explosion knocked everyone on their ass. Rolling on my back, I saw a long pillar of metal pop out of the tank like a rocket, arc through the air, and land right on Zaeed.

"Gah! Son of a bitch!" he cursed.

"Zaeed!" I said, getting to my feet. "You all right?"

"What the hell do you care?" he sneered. "I'm fine. Now come on. Get me out of this shithole."

I walked over to him and knelt beside him. Zaeed waited for me to lift the pillar off of him. Too bad. He'd have to wait for a couple minutes while we had a long overdue chat. "You put your revenge ahead of the mission," I told him bluntly. And almost got me—and everyone else—killed, I silently added. "How can I trust that you'll be there when we need you?"

"I'll do what I was goddamn paid to do, Shepard," he spat. "Just don't expect any more than that." He glanced back at the flames from the latest explosion. They were starting to get a bit too close for comfort. "Now stop screwing around! Let's go!"

I stood up and crossed my arms. "We could have helped you if you'd levelled with us," I told him. "We could have saved the workers _and _takenVido down. Instead, we had to run in without any semblance of a plan, we almost got ourselves killed, the refinery's going up in smoke and Vido got away. Why? Because you put your own goals ahead of the mission. That's not the way this works," I concluded.

Zaeed suddenly found the floor _very _interesting. "I've survived this long watching my own back," Zaeed said after a moment. "No time to worry about anyone else's."

He looked up to see me point a pistol at his face. Must've been like déjà vu for him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the others tense up. No one stepped in to intervene, though. This was between me and Zaeed.

"You're part of a team now, Zaeed," I said. "There's no way we can do this unless we're all working together. Unless we're all watching each other's backs and keeping an eye on everyone else. We'll bump into him again and when we do, we'll take him down. _Together_. Until then, we need you to help finish our mission."

To emphasize my point, I reversed my grip on the pistol. And then I waited for him to respond.

"You... you have a point," he said at last. "I'm not done with Vido, but I can put that behind me long enough to get your mission done."

"Good," I said, offering the pistol to him. "Now why don't you take your pistol back while I lift this thing off of you?"

Zaeed looked up at me in confusion, then down at the empty holster that used to hold his pistol. He gave a brief chuckle, then took the proffered weapon from me.

* * *

><p>While we were waiting for our shuttle to arrive and pick us up, we found another route back into the refinery core—one that wasn't on fire yet. Before the heat and the smoke drove us out, we managed to recover a few pieces of equipment that I could sell for credits, plus a nice handful of thermal clips.<p>

Eventually the shuttle arrived. As we boarded one by one, Zaeed stared out in the direction of Vido's gunship. He stood there for a minute before shaking his head. "Let's get the hell out of here," he growled.

He didn't say a single word for the duration of the trip back, staring at the floor moodily. It wasn't until we were three minutes from the Normandy that he stirred. "This reminds me of a mission I did a while back," he said.

"Uh huh?" I prompted.

"Cops on Ilium hired me and bunch of other guys to retrieve some money launderer. He was all bunkered up in a safe house, protected by more mechs and mercs than you'd find in a colony garrison. So my group attacked them with two shuttles: one that held all of us, the other rigged with explosives. We steered the other shuttle on a collision run with the safe house, let it crash and burn, then landed ourselves while everyone was runnin' around shitting their pants."

"And then you strolled in, scooped up the criminal and returned him to the cops," Garrus guessed.

"That was the plan," Zaeed said. "Everything was goin' just fine until we docked at the local precinct and tried to get out. Goddamn shuttle door was jammed. So my group, plus the bounty, spent the next five hours stuck in the shuttle like sardines in a friggin' can, until the cops managed to cut through the hull and free us."

"Nice story," Jacob replied politely.

"Yeah." With the timing that only a skilled storyteller could possess, Zaeed waited until the shuttle landed inside the hangar bay before adding "That Gardner sure made a nice three-bean casserole didn't he?"

I kinda lost track of Zaeed after that, caught up with the rest of the squad in the mad rush to get out of the shuttle. Rather than chase after him, I left him to his own devices for a few hours. There were other things to do, like research that heavy weapon upgrade I'd found or harass everyone else. Didn't get a chance to drop by and see him until the next day.

"Credit for your thoughts, Zaeed?" I greeted him.

"Just thinking 'bout Zorya," he replied. "Hell of a mission down there."

"You could say that," I agreed.

"Can't believe Vido got away," he spat. "Twenty years of tracking, gone, just like that." Then he shook his head. "But I gotta let that go."

"You sure you can do that?" I asked.

"You were right," Zaeed admitted. "I had my shot and I screwed it up. No one else to blame. There'll be other chances to take that bastard down. Until then, we have more important things to do."

I hoped so. I didn't really want to spend the rest of this mission with someone who might put a bullet in my back because he was seriously pissed at me. But it looked like our last conversation had struck home. If nothing else, he was ready to focus on completing his contract with TIMmy. That was good enough for me.

We chatted for a few minutes about random things like the Blood Pack helmet he had sitting next to him before I got up to make a nuisance of myself in Engineering. As I turned to leave, the hack I inserted into the ship's internal comm systems activated—right on time. I left the Starboard Cargo Area with a smile on my face as the song rang out over the loudspeakers:

"_Living easy, living free,  
>Season ticket on a one-way ride.<br>Asking nothing, leave me be,  
>Taking everything in my stride. <em>

"_Don't need reason, don't need rhyme,  
>Ain't nothing I'd rather do.<br>Going down, party time,  
>My friends are gonna be there too, yeah.<em>

_"I'm on the highway to hell,_  
><em>on the highway to hell..." <em>_**(5) **_

* * *

><p><em>(1): Shepard doesn't mention it, but he later ordered the surveillance feeds to that monitor disabled. <em>

_(2): I am reminded of something Shepard's mother said about how Shepard kept the telescopic sight from his very first sniper rifle as a way to literally and symbolically see where he came from, where he was and where he was going. _

_(3): The price Shepard quoted was correct, but only because it was used. The replacement part that the refinery ordered to replace it cost almost 10 000 credits._

_(4): Forensic investigations recovered another Blue Sun mercenary several hundred metres from the refinery. Judging by the impact velocity and the weapons rounds, it probably came from Zaeed Massani's weapon, which meant that he came remarkably close to taking out his nemesis. Vido Santiago was likely shaken by how closely his former partner came to killing him, which explains why he put out a substantial bounty for Zaeed's head shortly after._

_(5): "Highway to Hell," released by the human hard rock group AC/DC in 1979. It occurs to me that "Epiphany" from the musical Sweeney Todd might be more appropriate, but I'm sure Shepard didn't want to give Zaeed any more encouragement. _


	11. I'm a Krogan, not a Scientist

**Chapter 10: I'm a Krogan, not a Scientist**

You ever hear of a krogan scientist?

Yeah, I didn't think so. But after wandering around random systems and mining them for minerals, it was time to continue to the recruiting drive. The next guy was a krogan warlord named Okeer who made a name for himself fighting and slaughtering during the Krogan Rebellions. Since then, he'd become obsessed with an entirely different fight—the fight against the genophage that had doomed his people. Okeer would do anything, apparently. Even strike a deal with the Collectors for tech that could help him.

So naturally we had to recruit him, because in the twisted galaxy I'd woken up in, the one-time client of my enemy was my new best friend. Even if he was holed up on some rock called Korlus, infamous for earning the number one top spot for civvie murders in the Terminus Systems _and_ the number two spot for most murders per capita. Even if his new home also doubled as a garbage-dump-slash-graveyard for ships that had been stripped of everything worthwhile.

And did I mention that he was smack in the middle of a bunch of Blue Suns?

You'd think that after spending two years on the operating table, with the best minds that money could buy, that someone would think to have my head checked out. Guess even Cerberus had to cut costs somewhere.

Anyways, the shuttle dropped us off in the middle of an artificial wasteland. Nothing but rock, half-built (or half-destroyed) buildings and the skeletal remains of ships and vehicles as far as the eye can see. First thing I did was take cover. The others quickly followed suit.

"Last I checked, the dossier didn't say if Okeer is here by choice," I said.

"There haven't been any updates that would suggest otherwise," Miranda concurred.

"Then we should assume hostiles," I concluded. "Move out."

Oddly enough, the first attack didn't come in the form of bullets. It came via loudspeakers.

"_There is only one measure of success: kill or be killed!"_ a woman announced, _"Perfection is your goal."_

Good to know.

"_Being hired is merely the beginning,"_ she said after a minute. _"You must earn your place in the mighty army that we are building."_

Join the army, they said. See the galaxy, they said.

"_Before, you were nothing. Now, you have taken the first step to glory!"_

Okay, this was starting to get ridiculous. I wasn't the only one who thought that.

"Canned orders over loudspeaker?" Jacob scratched his head in disbelief. "Who does that?"

"Someone who really likes the sound of their voice," Garrus murmured.

"Charming," Miranda said sarcastically.

"Good thing we're here to find a krogan warlord," I snorted. "I'd hate to think we went all this way to listen to her all day."

We moved into what used to be a starship. Now it was just a bunch of decks exposed to the elements, hull plating and girders and stairs going every random direction. We went around a corner and trotted through the remnants of a corridor, ignoring the woman who was still going on. After twenty metres, it opened up into a small courtyard with stairs leading up to a small room surrounded by barricades. Good high ground for guards.

"Observation post," Garrus observed, echoing my initial impressions.

"Lookout point. Six men; equipped for combat," Mordin assessed, drawing on his STG training.

"They look tense," Jacob added.

"Good," Zaeed said, activating the disruptor mod on his assault rifle. "Jittery nerves make for piss-poor shooting."

I had been a bit worried earlier about whether Zaeed would be able to focus on the mission, given that his nemesis had given him the slip. Guess he decided to vent his frustrations on our enemies. The fact that they were also Blue Suns probably helped. "Team One, follow me over here; Team Two will go there," I said, designating the spots with my HUD. "Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; once you're in position, start overloading their shields at staggered intervals. Mordin, we'll light 'em up with plasma fire as soon as their shields are down. Hopefully, it'll be a short fight after that."

For once, things worked out exactly as planned. We took out most of the guards—except for one who rabbitted out of there—went up the stairs to the post and grabbed some loot. Then we went down some stairs to another ersatz ship corridor with the ceiling ripped off. There was a Blue Suns merc on the ground, admiring the nice clear skies. I recognized him as the guard who had run away earlier. Looked like he didn't get very far.

"Shit. Shit! _Shit_!" The merc was too busy cursing to notice our approach. "It won't stop bleeding... I'm gonna... son of a bitch!"

"What's he talking about?" Kasumi whispered. "It looks like we barely scratched him."

Garrus took one look and agreed. "Doesn't look that bad."

"He doesn't need to know that," I grinned.

The merc got to his feet, moaning about how life wasn't fair, the universe was against him, blah-blah-blah. His face was all scratched up and his nose was bleeding—wounds more consistent with tripping and falling on your face then eating a bullet. Eventually, he noticed that he had company.

"I _knew _it wasn't berserkers," he spat. **(1)** "Not at range. You're mercs. Or Alliance. I'm not... I'm not telling you anything."

"You're not in the best bargaining position," I pointed out. "But maybe we can work something out. I'm looking for a krogan named Okeer."

He looked at me in confusion. "Who?"

"Okeer. Krogan. So-called scientist," Mordin explained helpfully.

"You already know more than I do," the merc said. "I just kill krogan. The old one in the lab dumps crazy ones down here all the time."

"Okeer is in a lab and sending krogan out to fight?" I repeated.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Jedore hired him to make her an army, but the krogan he creates are insane, so we use them for live ammo training."

I didn't need three guesses to realize this Jedore was the one who had been spouting all those cheesy lines.

"It's crap," he continued. "It's all crap. I don't get paid enough to goddamn bleed out!"

Unless he never got any genetic therapy and had been born with haemophilia, I don't think he had to worry about that. **(2) **

We were interrupted by a voice that abruptly called out over the merc's comm. _"Outpost Four? Jedore wants us to move. We need coordinates on that krogan pack."_

Before the merc had a chance to do anything that could get me—and everyone else—killed, I took a step towards him. "I want your friends gone. Understand?"

He let out a whimper before opening a comm channel. "Uh, patrol? The last group... dispersed. Yeah, dispersed. Lost sight of them about five minutes ago. Or six."

"_Dispersed?"_ Whoever was on the other end didn't like what he was hearing. _"Jedore will be pissed. She wanted a show."_

"She's always pissed," the merc replied. "Look, you asked for a report and now you've got it: dispersed."

"_Understood,"_ the other guy sighed. _"Returning to the labs."_

"There," our new friend said. I moved my hand away from my omni-tool before he could see what I was doing during his chat. "You see? I'm helping."

"Yep," I nodded. "Now you can help us some more. Why is Jedore so intent on creating this army? What does she plan to do with all these krogan?"

"Replace us, probably," he snorted. "I sure wouldn't want to see an army of them coming at me. Only she can't control them. They aren't supposed to be crazy, but they're krogan. How smart are they to start?"

Somehow, that said more about him than the krogan. Even the crazy ones.

"Have you seen Okeer?" I tried. "Does he know about all of this?"

"We can't go into the labs," he shook his head, "but everyone sees what happens when the krogan come out. I've shot hundreds. They're crazy. _Mindless_. Anyone up there knows damn well what's going on."

This lab was pumping out krogan by the hundreds? Aw, crap. "Is the lab heavily guarded?" I asked.

"There are big guns to keep ships away," he shrugged. "We're not outfitted to fight goddamn commandoes."

I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I wouldn't get any more intel out of this guy. Not anything useful, anyways. Time to get rid of him. "Then why don't you get outta here?" I suggested. "If you start limping now, you might find a shady spot before you bleed out."

The merc took the hint and lurched off, cursing with every step. We took a minute to watch him limp away.

"The scare was a nice touch," Miranda smirked.

"I thought so," I shrugged.

"Hey, Shepard?" Kasumi piped up. "What were you doing earlier while the merc was chatting with his buddy?"

"Scanning the comm channels he was using and recording the encryption codes," I replied. I started calling up programs on my omni-tool to decrypt the codes. "Now, let me see..."

Zaeed craned his head to see my omni-tool display. "Huh. Looks like one of the old encrypt sub-routines I used to see when I was running the Blue Suns."

"Don't suppose you remember anything that could help," I asked.

Zaeed closed his eyes in concentration. "Yeah, there was a hole in the sub-routine. Something about scanning cycles lagging whenever the comm protocols did a systems check on the network."

That was enough to refine my search. Within minutes, I managed to hack into their comm channels. Now we'd be able to listen in on their troop movements. "Come on," I said, pulling out my sniper rifle. "Our warlord is waiting for us."

* * *

><p>"<em>Training is part of your contract. Failure to perform means liquidation, legal and otherwise."<em>

I was starting to dislike this Jedore. Partly because she kept yapping away over the Blue Suns comm channels. Partly because she had a bad tendency to shoot her mouth off seconds before we ran into trouble. Like the latest pair of Blue Suns trying to end our lives prematurely.

We were about ten steps away from a set of stairs leading down to a path that cut between two buildings. The Blue Suns were on a balcony jutting out from the building across from us. Apparently they were tired of killing krogan and wanted a change of pace.

Ducking a shot that would have otherwise hit my shields—or my head—I waited for Miranda to disable that guy's shields before setting him on fire. I would've sniped the guy, but I hadn't seen any thermal clips lately, so I wanted to conserve every shot possible.

'My guy' finally expired, about a half second before Zaeed blew his partner's brains out. We were about halfway down the stairs when reinforcements arrived, spilling out onto a catwalk that connected the two buildings I'd noticed earlier.

"Team Two, stay at the top of the stairs," Garrus barked out.

"Team One, we're heading down," I ordered, spotting a large metal panel half-buried in the ground. Any port in a storm, right?

We took refuge behind the panel and started firing back. Miranda tried to launch an EMP pulse at the Blue Suns, which exploded harmlessly about two thirds of the way. Apparently it had a limited range. Garrus and Kasumi had better luck, as their position was a bit closer. Zaeed started to run towards a thick girder lying prone in front of us, but a hail of fire drove him back.

"This sucks," he spat.

I started to agree with him when I spotted something shiny. "Cover me," I said.

Miranda barely managed to let out a startled "What?" before I cloaked and bolted out. I managed to take cover behind the girder just before my cloak gave out. Grabbing the thermal clip that attracted my attention in the first place, I slotted it into my sniper rifle and started directing the squad from my new vantage point. "Team One, lay down covering fire. "Team Two; focus on the leftmost group of hostiles. Drive them to the right so Team One can get a clean shot."

The squad quickly adjusted their tactics, sending EMPs and plasma over to the designated area. Judging by the startled cries and yelps, the mercs didn't exactly appreciate that. Too bad.

I cloaked, lined up a shot and fired. Two burst of blood exploded from the merc.

"Scratch one," Garrus crowed.

"No keeping score, Garrus," I called out.

"You're just jealous because I make it look so easy," he retorted, sniping another merc.

Not to be outdone, I activated my cloak, stood up and started tracking my next target. He was running along the catwalk, trying to get to another spot of cover. I panned my sniper rifle in his direction, mentally factoring in his speed and the surrounding winds. Letting out a breath, I squeezed the trigger...

...and his head popped like a ripe melon.

According to my sensors—and my eyes—there were no more hostiles in the area. I signalled the squad to converge, and we continued on our way. Left, right, left, right...

"_Team Four, do you read?"_ someone called out. _"Team Four!"_

We immediately halted.

"_Comm, tell Jedore we have a problem. Patrols are going dark. Either the krogan are pushing or we're being raided!" _

Consulting my HUD, it looked like there was trouble ahead. We moved up a ramp and into some kind of courtyard. Almost reminded me of a brig in its layout—metal two-story structure with walkways and rails on the second floor overlooking the poor suckers on the ground level.

Yeah, those poor suckers would be us, scrambling for cover as the Blue Suns on the second floor opened fire. I was a bit slow finding shelter, so my shields were shredded as I took a rocket straight to the chest. The hit knocked me back a bit, but I recovered in time to dive for shelter before I could get hit again.

"Ow," I winced.

Zaeed joined me, with Miranda hot on his heels. He took one look at me and sniffed. "Suck it up, Shepard. I've seen worse."

"Me too," I admitted. "Shields took the brunt of it. Still stings, though."

Miranda was paying more attention to the distribution of mercs in the area. Having made her assessment, she opened the squad comm channel. "Team Two, tackle the mercs in front of us. There are more of them heading our way from the left—Team One will deal with them."

A quick glance verified the tactical wisdom behind her orders. I gave her a quick nod, then we got to work. EMP to take out the shields, followed by plasma, concussive rounds or good old-fashioned gunfire. One, two, three.

"_The krogan are your example and your warning!"_ Jedore declared. _"As ferocious as they are, failures are expendable!"_

Was this a bunch of pre-recorded messages going out at standard intervals, I wondered as I sniped another merc. Or was she actually stupid or narcissistic enough to churn out her orders-slash-slogans in the middle of a fight?

Noticing that two of the mercs were pretty close, I sent some plasma fire their way. One of them cried out, slapped himself frantically and actually fell over the edge. A lesser man might have enjoyed that. Mind you, a lesser man would have gotten blown to smithereens by the rocket that was launched his way.

Cloaking, I focused on the rocket trooper through my scope. For once, the target was obliging enough to stay still. Easiest headshot I'd ever taken in... well, the last five minutes.

"Shepard," Garrus contacted me. "We're almost done here. Why don't you take your team and scout ahead. Put some pressure on the mercs."

Might as well, I decided. Press the advantage; keep the mercs reacting to us instead of the other way around. Motioning for Miranda and Zaeed to follow, we crept forward.

We'd barely taken a few steps forward when our sensors picked up more hostiles. Naturally.

"_Code Six!"_ one of the mercs hollered frantically as we found cover—again—against hostiles who had the high ground—again. _"Offworld presence! Shift fire from the krogan! Hostiles in the area!"_

Jedore spoke again, confirming once and for all that she had been running her mouth off herself all this time. _"We have guests in the compound! If they're not killed immediately, all bonuses will be denied!"_

Right. Because that's what you worry about when you're under attack. In my experience, the only ones whose sense of priorities were _that _screwed up were the REMFs up in command. Or politicians. Jedore was quickly striking me as one of those REMFs. **(3)** I almost felt sorry for the Blue Suns.

As I poked my head out to launch some plasma, I saw the krogan the mercs were talking about. He was sporting a dull red hardsuit with yellow markings, complete with helmet. There were two more krogan lying on the ground—dead from the look of things. That left this guy to fight five mercs.

Four Blue Suns, I corrected myself, as my plasma barbequed one of them.

With Team One lending a hand, it wasn't long before the tables were turned and the mercs were slaughtered. Team Two showed up just in time to help us take down the last one.

For once, there were no more reinforcements. We could finally stop and catch our breath. I took a deep breath. Might have had something to do with the krogan marching towards us.

Behind me, I glimpsed Garrus turn his weapon on the krogan. I motioned for him to hold his fire, at least for now. The krogan leaned towards me. If it weren't for the helmet, I'd swear he was sniffing me.

"You... are different," the krogan said at last. "New. You don't smell like this world."

I guess he was sniffing me. I knew I should've taken a bath before the mission.

"Seven night cycles, and I have felt only the need to kill. But you... something makes me speak."

Yeah, I get that a lot. My sunny personality makes everyone loosen their lips and... wait a sec. Did he just say—

"Seven night cycles," Jacob repeated.

"Seven days," Garrus realized. "But that means—"

"He's only seven days old?" Despite the incredulity behind her words, Miranda merely raised an eyebrow. That was the only concession she'd make to the shock we were all feeling.

"They must breed them full-size, ready to kill," I said. "They wouldn't be much improvement over regular mercs if they needed training."

"Bred... to kill?" the krogan said. "No. I kill because my blood and bone tell me to. But it is not why I was flushed from Glass Mother."

Glass Mother. Guess we know what the krogan grew up in.

"Survival is what I hear in my head," he explained. "Against the enemy that threatens all my kind. But I failed even before waking. That is what the voice in the water said. That is why I wait here."

"You're supposed to be part of a mercenary army run by Jedore," I told him. "Do you remember her?"

"I know that name," he nodded. "It causes anger. But also laughter. It is not a name that will be sung when we march."

"March?" Miranda asked. "March to what?"

"I do not know," the krogan replied, "but I have heard that phrase many times."

"How can you speak if you're only a week old?" I asked.

"There was a scratching sound in my head, and it became the voice," the krogan said. "It taught things I would need: walking, talking, hitting, shooting. Then the voice said I was not perfect and the teaching stopped. And now I am here."

"Interesting," Mordin mused. "Raised, then rejected. Control group? Failed test?"

The krogan didn't take any offense to Mordin's comments. "I do not know, but I am not perfect."

"You mentioned a voice earlier," I reminded him. "Was that Okeer's voice? Did he speak to you while you were in your tank?"

"I heard the voice," the krogan confirmed. "Not like now, with ears, but inside. I called it 'Father.' It liked that. But it was disappointed. I am not what it needs me to be.

"A breeding program," Mordin deduced. "Trying to escape genophage effects?"

"Escape?" The krogan sounded confused. "Escape was never whispered. Survive. Resist. _Ignore_."

"How did you disappoint the voice?" It seemed weird to refer to Okeer in such an impersonal way, but I guess it made sense to this guy, given the... interaction between them.

"I do not know. It was decided before I left Glass Mother. I was not perfect."

I looked over at Mordin. "I destroyed Saren's cure. How does Okeer expect these krogan to ignore the genophage if not by curing it?"

"Uncertain," Mordin admitted. "Likely irrelevant. Appears Okeer has had no success."

"In any case, Saren's 'cure' was just a way to mass-clone krogan, not defeat the genophage," Miranda added. "So the research at his base on Virmire may not have helped Okeer even if it wasn't destroyed." **(4) **

"Can you show me the laboratory?" I asked the krogan. "I need to speak with Okeer."

"The... the Glass Mother? She is up," he said, gesturing behind him. "Past the broken parts. Behind many of you fleshy things. I will show you."

He walked towards the wall, with the rest of us 'fleshy things' in tow. He brushed his hands together as if shaking off some dirt, stretched his neck muscles then grabbed a section of the wall. With a loud shriek of protest, the panel lifted up. The krogan paused to adjust his grip, grunted and tossed the panel to the ground.

"Not exactly subtle, but I like it," Kasumi grinned.

I took a peek through the hole in the wall. The path seemed to go down a dirt path and into a tunnel. Aside from that, I couldn't see much. "Thanks," I said.

"You fleshy things are slow when big things are in your way," the krogan replied.

"Can you show us the way?" I asked. "Help us fight to the labs?"

"No."

"A krogan refusing to fight?" Garrus marvelled.

"I am waiting," the krogan corrected. "The voice told me. If they come, I fight. But I will not run, and I will not follow. I am not perfect, but I have purpose. I must wait until called. Released."

With that, the krogan marched back to where we first saw him. To wait until he was called. So the rest of us fleshy things sallied forth.

* * *

><p>"Don't like the look of that," Miranda frowned.<p>

She was referring to a Blue Sun, lying in a pool of her own blood. I quickly frisked her, and was rewarded with a nice sum of credits. "What're the chances that whoever or whatever did this is long gone?"

"Fat chance," Zaeed snorted.

"We should stay alert," Miranda agreed.

On that cheerful note, we started down the dirt path. There was a small structure at the bottom, like a bunch of metal counters lined up in an "L" formation, before the path curved to the right.

We were about halfway down when someone screamed out "They're loose! Run for your damn life! They're all free!"

Aw, crap.

Two Blue Suns popped out, running flat-out until they saw us. Then they stopped, lifted their weapons and opened fire. Naturally I was in front and got the worst of it.

Miranda and Garrus managed to knock out their shields, but not before my shields were drained as well. Sensing that retreat was the better part of valour, I quickly sent some plasma their way and stumbled back. Now that I was out of the way, the squad was free to mow them down.

Before we continued, I took the opportunity to activate the warp ammo mods on all of my weapons. Judging by the panicked cries we heard earlier, there were krogan on the loose, so it was time to customize my ammo accordingly.

I had just finished the switch when a krogan came lumbering out. Luckily we had tons of cover, so the guy went down pretty quickly.

"Something tells me this krogan is just the..." Garrus paused. "What is that human phrase? About the top of frozen water formations?"

"'Tip of the iceberg,'" I replied. "You're thinking there are more up ahead. I agree. Let's move out, people. Eyes and ears sharp."

The next chamber we entered had a huge gaping hole in front of us. Luckily, a series of ramps and platforms, all held up by various columns, provided two routes to the other side. I used hand-signals to order Garrus to lead Team Two down the lower route, while Team One and I started across the upper route. About halfway up the first ramp, Jedore opened her mouth again.

"_Who authorized that krogan release?"_ she wanted to know. _"Okeer? I will have order in my compound!"_

If it was Okeer, I could see why he'd want to ignore her.

Another krogan showed up off in the distance, shotgun blazing away. Bugger managed to wing me, even at this range. Miranda and I quickly took out his armour with a combined assault of biotics and plasma fire, then Zaeed knocked the guy on his ass with a concussive round. A good round of bullets was all that was needed to take him down for good.

Oddly enough, I could hear weapons fire even though the krogan had been killed. I looked around, consulting my HUD.

There was another krogan who was busy tangling with Team Two.

And another krogan on the way.

Bunkering down behind a pillar, I sent off another round of plasma. Miranda followed with another display of biotics and... well, you know the drill.

Then another krogan came. We did the same routine.

And again.

And _again_.

Miranda was starting to breathe heavily by the time the sixth or seventh krogan went down for the count. That's the number of krogan _we _faced—Team Two were racking up an equally impressive count.

"Miranda?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure? Channelling that much biotic energy over such a prolonged period—"

"I'm _fine_, Shepard," she snapped. Taking a deep breath, she continued in a calmer voice "We can't stay here. It's clear the krogan will keep coming and coming."

"Gotta go on the offensive," Zaeed agreed. "Maybe every krogan Okeer rejected is comin' after us. Maybe not. But they'll flank us if we keep sittin' on our asses."

Moving towards krogan never struck me as a smart idea. I always preferred keeping them at a nice safe distance. But it wasn't looking like we had much of a choice. "Team Two, start advancing. Don't be afraid to retreat a bit if you have to, but press the attack."

"Understood, Commander."

Slowly, we advanced. Step by nerve-wracking step. I quickly lost track of the number of times krogan came _this close _to me, not to mention the number of times my shields were drained. But we eventually made it across the bridges.

Just as we were setting foot on terra firma again, one more krogan came around the corner. And with Miranda and Zaeed right behind me, there was nowhere for me to retreat.

"Guys?" I asked nervously.

"Ready," Miranda reassured me.

With a roar, the krogan charged at us, shotgun booming away.

A ball of plasma fire lanced from my omni-tool, melting his armour.

My shields went to 33%.

Miranda's biotics ripped a hole in the weakened armour, exposing his scaly skin.

My shields went out.

Zaeed's concussive round exploded against the krogan, sending him stumbling to the ground. Not before he fired another shot at me.

My vision started to blur. I started feeling dizzy. The only good thing about it was that it numbed the burning pain I was feeling.

Somehow, I managed to focus long enough to fire my pistol. I drained the entire clip, but that managed to put the krogan down for good.

My hardsuit automatically administered a dose of medi-gel, which quickly went to work. The pain I was feeling went away and my vision cleared up. By the time Team Two caught up to us, I was back to normal. Even my shields had regenerated.

"_Krogan took down the grid!"_ a Blue Sun called out frantically. _"We're blind and getting hit on all sides! Where are the heavies?"_

Guess we weren't the only ones with krogan problems.

Feeling much better, I led the squad forward and up a several flights of stairs, pausing long enough to snatch some palladium. There was a door at the top, which was locked. Thankfully, the lock was electronic. I swiftly bypassed the mechanism, thanking the inexorable force of progress for electronic locks instead of the physical ones we used to have.

Surprise, surprise: more stairs. This time, there was an open door leading out. We were about to pass through when another Blue Sun called out over the comm again.

"_Krogan on our six! Copy, goddamnit!"_ he barked furiously. _"Where the hell are Jedore and her personal guard?"_

I checked to see that everyone was ready before heading through the door and into some kind of storage room. One of the walls was missing, offering a clear view of how far you had to fall. The other walls held crates and computer consoles. Beyond the walls, we could hear weapons fire. Not being in any hurry to charge into the firefight, I took the opportunity to do some looting. Got a few goodies, including what looked like a set of schematics for a sniper rifle upgrade. I made a mental note to hit the tech lab as soon as we got back.

Now that I had satisfied my kleptomania, it was time to head out. We emerged onto another walkway, with nothing but a few crates and metal plating keeping us from the gaping abyss below. In front of us was a lone Blue Suns and a lot of corpses—merc and krogan. Guess it wasn't their day. On the other side of the chasm loomed another ship with an exterior walkway. That one had more Blue Suns.

Before any of them could react, Miranda zapped the shields of the Blue Suns on our side of the gulf, while Garrus sent a concussive round into his midsection. The velocity of that round sent him flying clear over the edge.

As his buddies belatedly fired back at us, I directed the squad to take cover. Behind the metal plates, mind you, not the crates. The readings from my sensors indicated that the crates weren't the sturdiest of containers, so they probably wouldn't hold up long against an onslaught of weapons fire. Especially if that weapons fire included rockets.

Keeping that in mind, I activated my cloak before raising my sniper rifle and drilling a nice neat hole in the closest rocket trooper. I signalled for Miranda to destroy one of the crates on the other side. Waving her hand, she abruptly increased the gravity around that crate. The entire thing collapsed, exposing the Blue Suns who were taking cover behind it.

I didn't have time to see the look on their faces or my squad's merciless assault on them, as I was a bit preoccupied with the sensor readings popping up on my HUD. The ones indicating that more Blue Suns were close by, and on _our _side of the chasm.

"Company incoming," I announced. "Team One will head them off."

My timing, unfortunately, was perfect. We had just started to round the corner when the reinforcements arrived. We quickly blew through the first pair on our way to a nice set of crates, which were sturdier than the last ones we saw. A third one peeked out, and took a hail of bullets for his trouble. As he dropped to the ground, several more rushed out through a door in the distance.

"_Jedore does not pay for failure!"_ Jedore chose that moment to make another announcement over the comm. And the PA system, judging by the echoes. _"Do your jobs, I want them dead!"_

So Jedore was spamming the Blue Suns comm channels _as well as _the PA system? Yeesh, her ego must know no bounds.

Peering up, I saw a bunch of Blue Suns enthusiastically launching rockets at us, plus a few troopers who were trying to sneak up on us. While Miranda and Zaeed kept the troopers at bay, I pulled out my sniper rifle. As I started sniping away, I idly wondered whether we should be expecting more of them.

"_Concentrate on the krogan charge or we're all dead!"_ someone yelled. _"Who was the genius who gave them arms?"_

Sending another ball of plasma off, I idly speculated that the genius was the one who issued them pay checks and had a finger permanently attached to the comm panel. The heavy trooper I'd set on fire started running around, waving her arms frantically and blocking the view of her colleagues. Miranda took advantage of their distraction to send another EMP. "This should scramble their circuits," she said with satisfaction.

"Good job!" While we were occupied, Garrus and Team Two had arrived. "Jacob, biotics; Mordin, plasma; Kasumi, more EMPs. Let's keep the pressure on!" The Blue Suns must have been seeing spots after a while, what with EMP detonations, biotic blasts and fireballs exploding everywhere.

We soon finished them off and continued on our way. More stairs to climb, more mercs to run into...

"_I paid for competence! Kill the trespassers! I will deal with the traitorous Okeer!"_

...and more narcissistic merc commanders having a temper tantrum.

"_Berserkers are going down, but the outsider commandoes are still incoming. Repeat: still incoming!"_

Another pair of Blue Suns came around the corner. Legionnaires, judging by the quality of their shields. They were still susceptible to my sniper rifle, though. It just took a couple shots to take them down.

"That's the last of them," Miranda sighed as the last one collapsed.

Another trooper picked that moment to pop out and start firing before he realized the odds weren't exactly in his favour. He didn't last long enough to regret his decision.

"You were saying?" I asked sarcastically.

"_I need everyone out of the lab to fight this!"_ a voice from the Blue Suns comm channel called out before Miranda could respond. _"Every floor, every outpost! Move!"_

We hurried along the walkway to find shelter before more company showed up. Our caution was quickly justified, much to my sorrow.

"_No more! I command that they be killed! What is so hard to understand?"_

Yeah, Jedore actually said "I command that they be killed!" Guess she bought the 'Cheesy Evildoer Lines for Dummies' book.

"Take cover!" one of the Blue Suns yelled as we responded with our usual trick: send everything our omni-tools or biotics could throw at them, then mop up with big guns. For once, the number of mercs facing us was relatively equal to the number of bodies in my squad. We could afford to stagger things so a constant stream of EMPs, plasma fire and other fancy tricks was being sent their way. One by one, the mercs started to drop. I glimpsed one of them lifting a hand to his ear. Surprisingly enough, I couldn't hear the conversation. Guess he was using a different channel. I did hear his response, though.

"_What do you mean, 'Jedore's holding the mech back?' She's going to lose all her toys if we don't get backup!"_

I'm not complaining. Nice to see the idiotic decisions of REMFs help _me _out for a change. **(5)**

By this point, there were only two more Blue Suns, each toting a rocket launcher. We didn't bother wasting ammo on them. Instead we knocked out their shields, set them on fire and watched as they succumbed. Once I was sure we were in the clear, we moved on. There were tons of thermal clips lying around, a welcome sight given how much ammo we'd burned through so far, not to mention all the credits I could pick up.

"_Concentrate fire on my position!" _I heard as I hacked a datapad. _"Concentrate on—argh!"_

Guess they were having trouble. Shame.

We went through a door and up more stairs, keeping one eye on the terrain and another eye on the HUD. Sure enough, we ran into more trouble.

"_There are only seven of them!"_ Jedore ranted. _"Seven! Anything can be killed if you do your damn jobs!" _

"_Jedore! Damnit, someone get her off the speakers and out here!"_

I guess even her underlings were starting to get tired of her. Chuckling to myself, I noticed that Miranda was launching another EMP, and quickly followed suit with a fireball. While I was out setting another merc on fire, I quickly gauged the level of opposition we were facing. Judging it was safe enough, I motioned for Team Two to leapfrog ahead of us while we lay down cover fire. Two minutes and two mercs later, they did the same for us.

And then again. And again.

I marvelled as our two teams instinctively moved to best help each other out. It was like the bizarre combination of Cerberus terrorists, thieves, bounty hunters, independent operatives and Spectres were actually working together.

"_Trespassers are topside! Tell Jedore we can't hold them _and_ the krogan. We're getting slaughtered!"_

Yeah, they were getting slaughtered all right. While Team Two lay down cover fire, I led Miranda and Zaeed up some stairs to a catwalk, where he had a nice view of all the Blue Suns trying to blow us to bits.

"_Squad Four? Outpost? Report! Damn it! I have to do everything myself!"_

Boy, when REMFs are out of touch, they are _really _out of touch. Boss lady didn't even know her own troops were looking for her. Not that I was complaining or anything.

Noticing a pair of mercs who were starting to look like they were going to play hero and do something stupid—trust me, I know all about heroes and the things they do—I pointed them out to Zaeed. He nodded and silently counted down with his fingers. On cue, we popped out and fired our sniper rifles, dropping both of them in their tracks.

"One less to worry about," Garrus laughed as he downed another merc. Judging by the continued weapons fire around the corner and the readings from my HUD, there were plenty more where that came from.

It was Team Two's turn to leapfrog ahead. They moved forward, they found cover, they kicked some ass. After a few minutes, Garrus turned towards me and opened the comm channel.

"Shepard, there's only one more hostile. Heavy with a rocket launcher. We can't get to her. Think you can lend a hand."

"Cover me," I replied. I moved down the stairs, activating my cloak as soon as I was out in the open. The HUD guided me in the right direction. I was almost there when my cloak gave out. The Blue Sun frowned in confusion as I shimmered into sight, then her eyes widened.

Too late. I punched her a couple times, then shot her in the head with my pistol to put her down for good.

And then there were more clips to take and another door to go through.

Story of my life.

* * *

><p>The door led into a small medical lab, filled with consoles, a krogan lying on a table...<p>

"Shepard, don't shoot! You know me!"

...and an asari hiding behind a desk. This last part seemed oddly familiar.

I ID'd her after a moment. Rana Thanoptis. I met her back on Virmire, where she was helping Saren pump out more krogan. And now I bumped into her again on Korlus, where she was helping someone else pump out more krogan. Guess it's a niche market.

"I shut down the security cams as soon as I saw it was you," she told me helpfully. "Never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad it's you shooting up the place."

"Rana Thanoptis," I greeted her. "I see you survived Virmire after all."

"I did," she nodded. "Had to outrun that nuke you set off in a utility pod, but it's better than nothing."

"I assume you have a good reason for being at this lab," I said, crossing my arms.

"Don't worry, I'm not wasting the chance you gave me," she replied hastily. She probably guessed what I was thinking earlier. "My work here is strictly beneficial."

"Yeah, I can see how it would benefit the Blue Suns," Kasumi laughed. "All those big guys running around, grunting away."

"Not for the mercs," Thanoptis shook her head. "Jedore's on a standard power trip. But Okeer is trying to do something good, I can tell. Even if his methods are a little... extreme."

She glanced at another body, which I'd missed during my first sweep. Looked more like a charred skeleton, come to think of it.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, right?" she continued, turning back to me. "And sometimes giving one pays off. I take care of my debts."

"What's Okeer trying to do here?" I asked.

"It's complicated."

Of course it is.

"Jedore wants a private army, but Okeer mostly ignores her. He's running the project for his own reasons." Thanoptis gestured at another door behind her before continuing. "I created a mental imprint routine to educate his tank-bred, but most don't get through it. He dumps them for some reason. He wants to help his people, but he's not looking for a genophage cure and he's not going for numbers. That's all I know."

"You know, finding you in a place like this makes me think letting you go was a mistake," I sighed. "Do you really want that?"

"Absolutely not," Thanoptis nodded. "Don't worry, I plan on staying as far away from anything to do with you as possible. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to run like hell before you blow the place up or something. I know how you work."

Fair enough. I do have trouble sleeping any night I haven't caused some property damage, after all. **(6)** I stepped aside and let her leave.

Mordin watched her depart, then turned to me. "Should have killed her," he said. "Too much knowledge without ethical boundaries."

"I'm all for second chances," Garrus frowned. "Not so sure on third ones."

"You've never played baseball, have you?" I asked.

Garrus and Mordin looked at me blankly. Jacob took pity on them. "I'll fill you guys in later," he laughed.

The door Thanoptis pointed out led to another lab, filled with consoles, miscellaneous equipment and a really big tank. There were two krogan in the room. One was in the tank. The other turned around and glanced at me.

"It's about time," he snapped. "I've watched your progress. The batteries on this tank will not wait while you play with these idiotic mercs."

"I take it you're Okeer," I replied calmly. "You don't seem particularly caged... or grateful that I'm here."

"You may claim to be here to help, but the formerly deceased Shepard is not a sign of gentle change."

Oh for crying out loud. Does my hardsuit have a sign saying "Hello, my name is Shepard" or something?

Okeer must have noticed my reaction, as a sly smile spread over his face. It wasn't a pretty picture. "Surprised? All krogan should know you. I'm sure Rana has already revisited your actions on Virmire."

I managed to stifle a sigh. At least he wasn't talking about Elysium. "I'm sure you're eager to retell the story."

"Such a tale!" Okeer spread out his arms dramatically. "Saren, the Spectre traitor, threatens the return of the krogan horde by curing the genophage, undoing the gentle genocide of the turians and salarians. But before Saren can deliver his endless troops, in rides Shepard, securing victory through nuclear fire.

"I like that part," he grinned. "It has weight."

"Really?" Now I really was surprised. "The only reason I blew up Saren's lab was because I didn't have a lot of room for finesse. If there'd been any other solution, I'd have considered it."

"But I approve," Okeer said. "Saren's pale horde were not true krogan. Numbers alone are nothing. The mistake of an outsider, one that these mercenaries have also made."

He walked towards a large window. Taking a step forward, I saw it oversaw a cargo bay that had been converted to hold...

...aw, crap. That was a lot of tanks down there. Most of them were already open, though. Hopefully, that meant we'd faced the krogan that used to snooze there already.

"I gave their leader my rejects for her army," Okeer continued. "But she grows impatient. It's time for you to take me out of here."

"Personal issues irrelevant," Mordin interrupted. "Here for the Collectors."

"I see." Okeer turned back to us. "Yes, Collector attacks have increased. A human concern. My requests were focused elsewhere."

He moved towards the tank in the room. "I acquired the knowledge to create one pure soldier. With that, I will inflict upon the genophage the greatest insult an enemy can suffer: to be ignored."

"What did you get from the Collectors?" I asked urgently. "I need whatever you know about them."

"They are strange," he replied. "So isolated, yet very available when your sacrifice is big enough. I gave them many krogan. I may have information for you, but the tech was consumed in my prototype, after I determined how to use it without killing the subjects."

"You sacrificed your own people to get Collector tech and figured out how to use it through trial and error?" I summarized.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "The deaths were unfortunate, but I only need one success to start the process."

"Your search for the perfect soldier created a lot of failures," I observed. "You don't care about them?"

"I failed no one," Okeer snorted, shaking his head. "My rejects are exactly what Jedore asked for. She simply lacks the ability to command. They are strong, healthy and useless to me. I need _perfection_. If a few thousand are rejected, so be it. My work will purify the krogan. We will not be restored—we will be _renewed_."

"I thought the krogan ideal was a return to the numbers that threatened the galaxy," I said.

"We will not need numbers," Okeer proclaimed. "My soldier is a template. It is a greater threat than all the phantom siblings that would have been at its flank. The galaxy still bears the scars of the horde. But it will learn to fear the lance."

"So you don't want to cure the genophage?" I concluded.

"Contrary to what survivors claim," Okeer sneered, "the genophage does _not_ produce strong krogan—the only quality it filters is the ability to survive the genophage. For every thousand stillborn, too many weaklings live. Every survivor is branded as precious. That's produced more coddling than your collective human teats. I say let us carry the genophage! Let a thousand die in a clutch. We will defeat it by climbing atop our dead. That is the krogan way."

Two things were becoming clear to me. First, Okeer didn't want to restore his people by eliminating the genophage. Instead, he was trying to work around it. He wanted to use the genophage as another tool to weed out the weak, so that only the strong would have a chance to survive, reproduce and bring the galaxy to its knees. To him, all the lives that had been snuffed out _in utero_ were nothing more than the eggs cracked to make the proverbial omelette.

Which brought me to point number two:Okeer was a really freaky zealot, made all the scarier with who-knows-how-many-pounds-of-krogan-muscle. And this was the guy TIMmy thought would be a nice fit for the squad? Here I was thinking the Council were bad judges of character. "How does that separate you from those who were cruel and manipulative enough to release the genophage on your people in the first place?"

"Maybe it doesn't," Okeer admitted. "But I will restore the krogan, and my soldier will not provoke a nuclear response as a 'cure' or 'horde' would. My legacy is perfection, with each pure krogan reaching higher by standing on our dead. They will excel, but not forget."

I hated to admit it, but there was some method to his madness. One krogan wouldn't cause the galaxy to lose their collective minds. Not at first, at least. "If your 'pure krogan' soldier is as strong as you think, maybe I can use him," I said.

Okeer shook his head. "Perhaps I can strike a deal to secure passage. But my prototype is not negotiable. It is the key to my legacy."

Our nascent negotiations were abruptly cut off by Jedore, naturally. _"Attention!"_ she announced over the PA system. _"I have traced the krogan release. Okeer, of course."_

Noticing something, Okeer stormed to the window. Following his gaze, we saw a woman marching back and forth, hand to her ear—Jedore, presumably. We also saw a YMIR heavy mech in shutdown mode. As if a bunch of krogan clones weren't bad enough.

"I'm calling 'blank slate' on this project," Jedore said. "Gas these commandoes and start over from Okeer's data. Flush the tanks!"

An ominous hissing noise filled the room as nozzles started spewing gas into the lab, one by one.

Okeer looked around, a mixture of rage and disbelief in his eyes. "She's that weak-willed?" he scowled. "She'll kill my legacy with a damned valve!" After a few seconds, he focused on me. "Shepard! You want information on the Collectors? Stop her. She'll try to access contaminants in the storage bay to destroy my prototype!"

"First you say you 'may have information,' now you know something?" I asked. "Don't jerk me around, Okeer."

"I will give you everything I can," he said seriously. "My legacy must _not _suffer this insult. Jedore will be with the rejected tanks. Kill her. I will... stay and do what must be done."

* * *

><p>I headed straight out the labs and down the stairs leading down to Jedore, pausing just long enough to swipe some interesting looking tech. As we opened the doors into the cargo bay, the first thing we heard was Jedore's increasingly annoying voice.<p>

"_I don't care who they are, I want them dead! This is my world! I'll poison them all!"_

"I think she's talked enough," Miranda said.

"Agreed," I nodded. I took one step out...

...and promptly dove for cover as a krogan's shotgun round nearly hit me. "Okeer isn't the only one with toys at his command," Jedore boasted, sending a rocket our way. From the look of things, the cargo bay had walkways on either side, with ramps leading down to the centre, where the krogan tanks opened into. A familiar clanking noise told me that Jedore's other 'toy,' the YMIR, was on-line and moving down the centre as well.

"Team One goes inside to handle the krogan," I ordered. "Team Two stays outside for targets of opportunity. Let's rotate our attacks, people. Weapons free."

At the moment, the krogan were the greatest threat, mostly because of their penchant for coming in close and pounding enemies to pulp. We could whittle down the mech's defences whenever we had a chance. And then we could deal with Jedore.

The first krogan went down pretty quickly, using the tactics we'd refined during this mission. Kasumi even managed to take out a third of the mech's shields. Second one went down too, but it was a bit dicier—the krogan almost got us that time. But we managed to take out the YMIR's shields, even with the mech and Jedore spitting rockets at us.

Krogan number three took a ball of plasma straight to the chest plate but kept going. Mordin added his own pyrotechnics, but the armour was still intact. The krogan climbed the stairs towards us, growling maniacally. At last, Miranda rended its armour open with her biotics. But by that point, it had reached us.

I felt a sudden blow. It was the krogan and his damn shotgun, scoring a direct hit. Felt like a really nasty punch, even through my own armour. And then my shields blinked out, thanks to a glancing hit from a rocket launched from the mech.

"Fall back," I yelled. Team Two kindly cleared a path for Miranda, Zaeed and I to barrel through the doors out of the cargo bay. The doors immediately closed as soon as we were clear.

We heard a thud as a rocket hit the doors, and then another. Oddly enough, the doors didn't open. Either there were no controls on the inside or the krogan weren't smart enough to operate them. I took a breath, and then another, keeping a close eye on my HUD.

Then, as I watched, my shields started regenerating. Within a few seconds, my shields were restored with a flicker and an electronic buzz. Showtime.

We opened the door, and the krogan greeted us with another shotgun blast. Naturally I took the brunt of it. Our returning volley, however, quickly put it down.

And then there was the YMIR. It still had a bit of armour protecting its chassis, which a plasma bolt quickly dealt with. A few sniper rounds to the head, and it went down with a bang. **(7)**

Jedore started cursing away. Well, she tried to. It sounded more like a bunch of incoherent sputtering. Her aim was a bit more effective, though. Our attempts to move forward were quickly thwarted by several well-placed rockets.

"Okay, let's start by taking out her shields," I called out.

"Um, how are we supposed to hit her?" Kasumi asked. "She's pretty well protected over there."

"Someone's gonna have to act as bait," Zaeed agreed.

Everyone looked at me. My heart sank.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Just be ready."

I went into the middle of the cargo bay and just stood there. Any second now...

...yep! Jedore couldn't resist. She immediately stood up, and three EMPs went off—shorting out her shields in a blink. I dove to the side as she launched two rockets in quick succession. A fireball, and Mordin's triumphant cry, told me that her armour had taken a hit as well.

"You will pay for your insolence!" Jedore cried.

Getting to my feet, I moved back into my original position and pointed my omni-tool in her general direction. As soon as she popped up, I sent some plasma of my own, which melted through her armour. A concussive round from Zaeed sent her flying.

"You dare?" Jedore yelled, stumbling to her feet. "_I_ rule here!"

She lifted her rocket launcher and took a step forward—right into my sights. One squeeze of the trigger and it was all over. I started to savour the satisfaction of shutting Jedore up once and for all, for the sake of my ears if nothing else.

"Do you hear that?" Miranda called out from her position, bringing my joy to a typically abrupt end. I listened closely and heard alarms going off up above. Sounded like they were coming from the lab. "Damn it, what's going on up there?"

"_Shepard,"_ EDI's voice came in over the comm. Guess she was monitoring our progress the whole time. _"The lab alarms coincided with a systems failure. The remaining lab systems are unprotected, and I have gained limited access."_

"Give me a sitrep, EDI," I said.

"_According to lab scanners, the room is flooded with toxins, and Okeer's personal life sighs are failing rapidly. I recommend haste."_

Must be seriously deadly toxins if they could overwhelm a krogan's systems so quickly. "EDI, see if you can vent the room of the toxins. Squad—double-time it back to the lab. Move!"

We hurried up the stairs, not even bothering to holster our weapons. Our feet pounded the metal steps, a harsh contrast to the pleasantly synthesized voice repeating _"Contaminants detected. Emergency vent in progress."_

But we were too late. Okeer was slumped by the computer console near the tank. The console automatically started a recording when we entered the lab.

"_You gave me time, Shepard,"_ Okeer rasped. _"If I knew why the Collectors wanted humans, I would tell you."_

As I got closer, I could see Okeer swaying back and forth on the monitor. He was dying, but he was determined to send me a message.

"_But everything is in my prototype,"_ he continued. _"My legacy is pure. This... one soldier, this grunt. Perfect."_

"He sacrificed thousand of his own people..." Zaeed said.

"So why would someone so fanatical sacrifice _himself_ for one krogan?" Garrus finished.

"Delusional," Mordin sniffed. "Unlikely one krogan, however strong, could have impact Okeer wanted. Am... almost certain." He finished that with a noticeable lack of confidence. "Suggest leaving it."

"Afraid he'll make your genophage obsolete?" I asked sarcastically.

"No," Mordin replied. "But krogan genetically dangerous. Socially dangerous as well. Have enough enemies without adding this."

"We'll see," I said, activating the comm. "Shepard to Normandy. Okeer is a no-go. But we have a package that needs retrieval."

I glanced at the tank looming over us before adding "And he's a _big_ one."

* * *

><p>We headed back to the Normandy. I was grateful that our squad was only seven people, as we needed the extra room to hold the 'pure krogan' tank. With a hell of a lot of grunting and swearing, we managed to lug it back to the Port Cargo Hold and plug it into the Normandy's internal power grid.<p>

After that, I headed to the tech lab to scan the research upgrade I'd picked up earlier for the sniper rifle. I was just finishing up when Garrus sent me a message on my omni-tool:

_Shepard,_

_Miranda and Jacob having 'discussion' about krogan in comm room. Suggest dropping by._

_Garrus_

It only took me a minute to wrap things up and hurry over to the tech lab. "Bringing the krogan for study makes sense," Miranda was saying as I entered, "but I have concerns about waking it."

"Yeah, you've said that a few times now," Jacob sighed.

"A normal krogan is dangerous," Miranda insisted. "This one was created, and likely educated, by a madman."

"I see everyone's enjoying the new paperweight," I said, announcing my presence in case anyone missed me. "Let's hear your other concerns."

"All our intel was on Okeer. We don't know anything about _this _krogan, Commander," Miranda started. "For all we know, it could be just as unstable as the other krogan Okeer rejected."

"Which is why he's still in the tank. There's no way he's getting out unless one of us lets him out," I reassured her.

"There are other possibilities. Perhaps Okeer installed some sort of failsafe. Or a malfunction could cause the tank to shut down," Miranda pointed out.

"EDI, how quickly can the cargo hold be vented to space if there's an issue?" I asked.

"Twenty-eight seconds, Shepard."

"And if anyone else is in the hold at the time?" Miranda prodded.

"I'll figure something out." What that might be, I had no idea. "Jacob, Garrus; what's your take?"

"Your call, Shepard," Jacob replied. "If you're going to wake him, you should bring some backup."

"Going in with backup could antagonize him," Garrus disagreed. "You're going to need something a bit less confrontational."

"Noted," I said. "The cargo hold is safe enough while I decide what to do with him."

With nothing else to discuss, the three of them left. I pulled Garrus aside before he departed.

"Thanks for the heads-up," I started.

"You're welcome," Garrus nodded. "Any thoughts on what you're going to do."

"Not yet," I shook my head. "I'll let you know when I've made a decision."

The two of us separated; Garrus to do his own thing, me to make my usual rounds.

Kelly caught my eye when I emerged onto the command deck. "Is it true we have a pod containing a baby krogan down in the cargo hold?" she whispered.

Don't know why she was whispering, when the scuttlebutt clearly had spread the news to the whole ship. "Not a baby," I corrected. "He's a full-grown super-soldier ready for combat."

Now she looked even more nervous. "Please be careful if you decide to... er... birth him? His personality is completely unknown."

True enough. I put some serious thought into what to do over the next few hours. Finally, I made some preparations and contacted Jacob, Garrus and Zaeed, telling them to suit up and meet me outside the Port Cargo Hold.

"I'm gonna pop the tank," I told them when everyone arrived. "I want you to wait outside. If there's trouble, I'll signal you over the HUD to charge in. The goal is to retrieve me and get everyone out of the cargo hold. After that, we'll vent the atmosphere."

"And if there's trouble but you _don't _signal?" Garrus asked.

"Then, contrary to what you might hear, I have things under control," I replied.

"And you're sure you want to go in alone?" Jacob asked.

"As Garrus pointed out earlier, if things start going south, the last thing I need is a bunch of armed men charging in and making a tense situation worse," I said. I would have preferred if someone else was doing the talking, but being the CO has a lot of drawbacks. **(8)**

"Shepard, couldn't you wake him remotely and talk to him over the viewscreen?" Garrus suggested.

"I doubt Okeer's imprints would teach this krogan to respect someone who didn't meet him face to face," I shrugged. Even if that would be the smart thing for me to do.

"Good luck," Jacob said soberly. "You'll need it."

Without any further protests, I strode into the cargo hold and up to the tank.

"The subject is stable, Shepard," EDI informed me. "Integration with onboard systems was seamless."

"Can he see anything in there?" I asked, peering through the glass. "Does he know where he is?"

"Unlikely. Current neural patterns indicate minimal cognition."

"And he's fine in there for now?"

"Barring ship-wide power loss, the nutrients in the tank could sustain him for over a year."

"You know why I'm here," I said. "What can you tell me about this guy? Anything unusual?"

"The subject is an exceptional example of the krogan species, with fully formed primary, secondary and tertiary organs where applicable," EDI reported. "No defects of any kind, aside from the genetic markers of the genophage present in all krogan. I cannot judge mental functioning.

"Any idea how dangerous this guy is?"

"He is a krogan, Shepard. If you are asking whether he is actively hostile, I don't have the necessary data to answer. Okeer's technology could impart data, not methods of thinking. The subject may know of his views, but would not necessarily share them."

Then it all comes down to one big gamble. "Stand by. I'm going to open the tank and let him out." Here's hoping the universe was on my side for once, I silently added.

"Cerberus protocol is very clear regarding untested alien technology," EDI promptly stated. "There is a serious risk with your proposed course of action."

Again with the warnings. It was like someone was trying to tell me something.

Maybe I should listen. That would be the smart thing to do.

But when did I start doing that? It's not like I did that the last time.

"He's either a powerful addition to the crew or a time bomb," I finally said. "I'd rather deal with it now."

"Very well, Shepard," EDI replied. "The controls are online. The switch—and consequences—are yours."

The control panel flickered to life, but I ignored it for the time being. Instead, I stared at the krogan floating before me, immersed in some kind of stasis/nutrient solution. I just stood there, staring at the bubbles floating up one by one.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head, walked to the console and entered the revival sequence.

The first thing I heard was a gurgling sound. The solution quickly drained into the floor compartment of the tank. With a clank, the tank lid popped open. The krogan fell to his knees with a loud thud and coughed out the last of the solution. Even on his knees, the guy was as tall as I was. I must admit, it was a bit intimidating.

After a second, he rose to his feet. His eyes looked unfocused. I took a step towards him. He lifted his head and looked at me.

Then his eyes narrowed.

Aw, crap.

Without warning, he charged forward. He rammed into me, lifting me off my feet, and carried me all the way to the other side of the cargo hold. The next thing I knew, I was being slammed against the wall, with a heavy arm holding me in place.

"Human. Male."

Krogan. Big.

"Before you die, I need a name," he rumbled.

"I'm Commander Shepard," I snapped, "and I don't take threats lightly. I suggest you relax."

The krogan shook his head. "Not your name. Mine. I am trained. I know things, but the tank... Okeer couldn't implant a connection. His words are hollow. Warlord, legacy, grunt... grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do.

"I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."

Seriously, most people never get the chance to pick their own names. And this guy picks 'Grunt?' "You wouldn't prefer 'Okeer' or some other krogan name? Or 'Legacy?'"

"It's short," he growled. "Matches the training in my blood. The other words are big things I don't feel. Maybe they fit your mouth better. I feel nothing for Okeer's clan or his enemies. I will do what I am bred to do—fight and determine the strongest—but the imprint has failed. Without a reason that's mine, one fight is as good as any other. Might as well start with you."

Great. A krogan who's basically a blank slate and all he wants to do is fight. "Is it that easy for Okeer's perfect krogan to abandon his mission?" I demanded.

"Okeer is just a voice in the tank," Grunt snorted. "If his imprints are true, then he created something stronger than him. So he's not worthy of me. And if his hatreds aren't strong enough to compel me, they've failed too. I feel nothing. I have no connection."

"Here's a connection for you," I said, "I have a good ship and a strong crew. A strong _clan_. You'd make it stronger."

"If you're weak and choose weak enemies, I'll have to kill you," he threatened.

"I was strong enough to be brought back from the dead and command once more," I replied, staring him straight in the eye. "And everyone on my ship has earned their place and their right to stand by my side." Okay, I wasn't entirely sure about that last part, but he didn't need to know. "We face enemies that threaten entire galaxies. They're worthy adversaries, no doubt about that."

We continued our staring contest for what seemed like hours, with Grunt crushing me into the wall. Finally, he opened his mouth. "Nothing in the tank imprints indicated humans could be so confident or forceful. You speak as though you've earned the right to lead."

"Plus I have an ace up my sleeve," I said, glancing down.

"Hmm?" Grunt took my cue and looked down. For the first time he noticed my pistol, which I'd pulled out as soon as he rammed me into the wall.

"Ha! Offer one hand, but arm the other," he approved, releasing me at last. I resisted the urge to start wheezing and gasping for air. That would really ruin the rep I'd just established with him.

"You are wise, Shepard," he said, a note of respect in his voice for the first time. "If I find a clan, if I find what I... I want, I will be honoured to eventually pit them against you. Until then, I'll fight for you."

"As part of my 'clan,' you'll be helping us fight our enemies: the Collectors," I told him. "Did Okeer give you any imprints about them?"

He frowned, raising a hand to his head in concentration. For the first time I noticed that he didn't have the head plates of most krogan. Instead, it looked like a bunch of rock-like protrusions covering his scaly face. I wasn't sure whether that reflected his age or the unique circumstances behind his creation.

"I see... blurry ships, guesswork about strength," he reported. "Nothing to help pick a weak spot and tear. Okeer spent all his time on old hatreds and old enemies."

"Okeer said he got some tech from the Collectors, which he incorporated into your creation. Any idea what that might be?"

"No. Some way to breed krogan. Whatever he had, it was used up when he made me." He looked at me with annoyance. "You humans talk too much. Like the tank."

"Just one more thing before I go," I said. "Anything I can get for you?"

"No—wait. Yes."

"Go on," I prodded.

"Where's your mess hall? I'm hungry."

* * *

><p><em>(1): Krogan were known to enter a sort of 'blood rage,' which made them even more formidable. The Blue Sun here was probably referring more to the extreme aggression of the krogan created by Okeer, however.<em>

_(2): A group of hereditary genetic disorders which adversely affected the coagulation cascade responsible for controlling blood clotting, one that _in utero _genetic therapy or corrective genetic enhancements had virtually eliminated by the 22__nd__ century._

_(3): A term referring to commanders who lead from behind a desk and issue orders based on nostalgia, theory, the letter of the law or some form of self-interest rather than tactical or strategic cunning. The first three letters stand for "Rear Echelon Mother" while the last letter stands for something more profane._

_(4): While the Virmire base was destroyed, the salarian STG who were there had gathered a great deal of intelligence beforehand, which corroborated Miss Lawson's statement. _

_(5): It is always difficult to gauge who was correct in these circumstances. Field units on the front are better able to assess the tactical situation and often issue requests on whatever might be needed to adapt to the present circumstances. Command units, on the other hand, can see the overall strategic picture, and may hold back reserve units if they feel they are needed somewhere else. I must admit, though, that most command units are not as... talkative. _

_(6): As facetious as his comment might be, his record do support those remarks._

_(7): The surprising ease with which Shepard's squad took down such a formidable force is a testament to the effectiveness of carefully choosing your terrain. The krogan and the heavy mech were unable to reach Shepard and his squad without climbing the nearest ramp, which funnelled them into a bottleneck. As Shepard demonstrated, he also had a clear exit path to retreat if he needed more room. _

_(8): Very true, though the burdens of command I faced as CO weren't as frequently life-threatening._


	12. Personnel Report: Kasumi Goto

_Editorial Note: This personnel report was written shortly after recruiting Grunt on Korlus. It focuses on Shepard's impressions regarding Kasumi Goto, with particular emphasis on a unique mission._

**Personnel Report—Kasumi Goto **

When I asked Kelly for her opinion of Kasumi, she stopped and thought about it. "She's an interesting addition to the crew," she said finally. "I can see why she's good at her work... she never reveals anything meaningful about herself. It's all on the surface. It'll be a challenge getting to know who she really is."

I suppose she had a point. While Kasumi was almost as friendly and perky as Kelly in any conversation, she tended to keep to herself. And those conversations usually involved her observations on the crew or past heists rather than any in-depth expose on her personal history. Understandable, of course. Not everybody dishes out their whole story to total strangers.

Still, she was more than willing to talk about her observations on the crew, which included a rumour that one of the Cerberus navigators thought she might be pregnant and the way Ken and Gabby bickered in engineering would make them a cute couple—if they could ever get their heads out of the sand. She was also quite open about past heists and what they meant to her.

"The Normandy runs so quietly," she told me when I first visited her. "I'm not used to hearing my footsteps when I walk."

"I imagine you soon got used to that," I smiled, heading over to some artwork in the corner. Clearly not Cerberus issue, if only because there was no artwork on the Normandy. Mind you, Alliance ships usually don't sport any artwork either.

I got distracted with a rose sitting next to a sculpture of some guy's head—her first museum job, apparently, prompted by a dare from her former partner, Keiji Okuda. Kasumi noticed what I was looking at. "The red rose. That used to be my calling card when I first started out. In place of whatever I took, I left a single red rose."

"Must've made you real popular with the florists," I cracked.

"The ones who got paid _and_the ones who got ripped off," Kasumi grinned. "It wasn't until I met Keiji that I realized how silly that was. He had a way of making you understand when you were just being sentimental."

Kasumi must have stolen a lot of paintings over the years, but there were only two that she put up in her room. One consisted of a bunch of circles and swirls, all in warm, rich hues. I'm not one for art, but even I could tell that the arrangement and colours added up to something quite... impressive.

"That's my favourite piece, painted for me by a child prodigy on Elysium. She was the cutest thing."

"I'm sure," I nodded.

"She was kidnapped by slavers who hoped to sell her on Omega. I wasn't about to let that happen. I set up an ID as a buyer's rep to get a special tour of the slaver's vessel. Once aboard, I freed the girl and smuggled her off the ship. She painted that for me on the way home. I'll _never_forget how it felt to watch her work."

The other was either a black-and-white pic or a painting of an urban neighbourhood. Very minimalist, mostly just lines and shadows. But there was something elegant in its simplicity.

"That painting has a special place in my heart," Kasumi explained, noting what had drawn my attention. "An art collector hired me to steal it. When I got there, the painting was gone. On the way out, I saw it being hauled off by another thief. I chased him down, tackled him and took the painting.

"That's how Keiji and I first met. We never did turn it in to our employers."

* * *

><p>It's a testament to Kasumi's ability to obfuscate one thing by talking your ear off about another that I never got all the details on her proposed heist until the last minute. Don't get me wrong, I knew some things. She was interested in a greybox—some fancy neural implant for storing memories and other forms of data—that belonged to Keiji. I knew that it was currently in the hands of Donovan Hock, a rather ruthless arms dealer. Hock was hiding the greybox at his mansion—yes, that's right, I said <em>mansion<em>—and was trying to crack it so he could uncover some really big secret hidden inside that could threaten Alliance interests.

I also knew that the mansion was planted on a prime piece of real estate on the planet Bekenstein, a nice little rock that had shifted from general manufacturing to the production of high-quality entertainment luxury goods which would be sold to markets via the Citadel. It had earned a name as the "human's Illium," a world where new-money celebutantes and tycoons flaunted their money shamelessly, while the have-nots—everyone else, in other words, were steadfastly ignored.**(1)** Most people couldn't hack it there for more than a few months. Those that could took every opportunity to pat themselves on the back for being smart enough, skilled enough, tough enough and capable of getting a job anywhere in the galaxy.

The only other thing I knew was that we'd be sneaking into Hock's mansion under an assumed name. For some reason, that involved formal wear, so we'd have to pack our weapons and whatnot separately.

When the time came, I gave Kasumi my hardsuit and most of my weapons, which she placed inside a shelf at the bottom of a really big object wrapped in some sort of packing material. Once we got to Bekenstein, we lugged the object into the shuttle, flew down and rented out an aircar and cargo transport. The mystery object was stuffed in the latter, and we flew off to Hock's mansion in the former, with me still none the wiser as to this big heist Kasumi had planned.

"You clean up well, Mr. Solomon Gunn," Kasumi told me pleasantly. "Aside from the scars. Hock won't know what hit him."

I should explain that. Once I found out that we would be sneaking in under a legend, I'd taken the liberty of dyeing my hair and adding some scars. **(2)** I didn't want Hock tracing my alias, whatever it was, back to one Commander Shepard. Seeing how this alternate identity could come in handy in the future, and I didn't necessarily want TIMmy to be aware of it, I added the dye job and the scars after I left the Normandy. That was a bit tricky, but it was nothing a pack of hair dye, a shower and a few gadgets loaned from sickbay and the tech lab couldn't accomplish. "I assume Solomon Gunn is my cover," I said.

"You run a small but talented band of mercs out in the Terminus Systems," she confirmed. "Precisely the type of person Hock respects.

"I took the liberty of giving you a reputation," she added, pulling up a mock resume of 'my' accomplishments. All of them required a high degree of competence, technical expertise and tactical savvy—but none of them were so high profile that Hock or anyone would wonder why he'd never seen or heard of me before.

"Nice," I approved. "Credit records, papers, witnesses..."

"Article in Badass Weekly," she added. "Just don't start talking business with him and you'll be fine."

"I take it I'm wearing this getup for a reason," I said.

"Well you'd look really out of place at a society party in armour, don't you think?" Kasumi smirked. She looked me over, just to make sure I hadn't forgotten to zip up or something. "You look great," she added. "You should wear this stuff more often."

"Only if I have to," I shuddered. "I tend to associate formal wear with parades and political functions that drag on and on and _on_." Probably because Alliance formal wear tended to be over-starched and stiff as hell. The tuxedo that Kasumi had acquired, on the other hand, was made of smooth, satiny silk that practically _flowed_with my movements. I was seriously starting to think I'd gotten into the wrong profession.

Speaking of which, it was time to start getting some details on this heist, especially since we were almost there. "Of course, now I'll associate it with dubiously legal activities," I said. "Which reminds me: now's probably a good time to fill me in on the details."

"You have been waiting patiently," Kasumi acknowledged. She tapped a command on her omni-tool, leaned over and activated the aircar controls, pulling up a bunch of pics and schematics from her omni-tool. "Our friend Hock is throwing a party for his closest friends. A couple dozen of the worst liars, cheaters and mass murderers you'll ever want to meet, all bringing gifts as a tribute to the man himself."

"And our tribute is..." I prompted.

"A lovely statue of your old friend Saren, rendered with loving detail and filled to the brim with our weapons and armour."

Ah. No wonder it was so heavy.

"I think we missed one," I frowned, tilting my head towards the pistol at my hip.

"No, you can keep your pistol," Kasumi shook her head, "as long as it's concealed. They won't hassle you over a sidearm."

"If you say so."

"Once inside, we'll make our way to Hock's vault door, somewhere in the back of the ballroom," she continued. "Then we case the security and start peeling away the layers. The statue should be there, waiting for you to crack it open and arm up. After that, we just waltz into the vault and take back Keiji's greybox.

"And I'll finally get a chance to say goodbye."

She said that last sentence almost in a whisper. I glanced over at her. It was hard to see the look on her face, as it was shrouded by that hood she seemed to wear all the time, but her body posture spoke volumes. "You've worked really hard on this," I said softly. "Keiji must have meant a lot to you."

Kasumi shot a quick look at me. "Was I that obvious?"

I shrugged.

"Keiji's greybox holds a lot of priceless, personal memories," she admitted. "It's all that remains of who he was. But the secret he discovered is dangerous. I wouldn't bring you here if it wasn't."

Dangerous. Great. So naturally only two of us were going in on this merry caper. **(3)** "This oughta be interesting," I sighed.

"That's what I'm going for," my partner-in-crime chirped.

We were about a minute out from the mansion. Rather than spend it in silence, I turned on some old music to put us in the mood:

"_Non! __Rien __de __rien!  
>Non! <em>_Je __ne __regrette __rien!  
>Ni <em>_le __bien __qu'on __m'a __fait  
>Ni <em>_le __mal __tout __ça __m'est __bien __égal!_

_"__Non! __Rien __de __rien!__  
>Non! <em>_Je __ne __regrette __rien!  
>C'est <em>_payé, __balayé, __oublié  
>Je <em>_me __fous __du __passé!__"_ **(4)**

An automated signal interrupted the song at that point, directing me to a parking lot just outside the front entrance. As the two of us got out, I saw the statue of Saren being lowered off the transport.

I looked at Kasumi. She looked back at me, a glint of excitement visible beneath her hood. "After you, Mr. Gunn."

The two of us started walking towards the entrance. We were just about to walk up the stairs when someone called out "Just one moment, sir."

Turning around, we saw a guard near our 'gift.' Judging by the logos on his hardsuit, he was an Eclipse merc. Unlike most Eclipse mercs, though, his armour was all black with white highlighting, as opposed to the usual yellow and black pattern. I later learned that Hock had made a long-standing arrangement with Eclipse to hire out a detachment of mercs for security. Those mercs specifically assigned to house security were given customized uniforms, which he paid for out of his own pocket.

At the moment, though, I was trying not to get antsy. I mean, I'd just found out the details on what I'd gotten myself into, and things were going south before it even started. "Everything all right?" I asked, forcing a casual note into my voice.

"There seems to be an issue with the statue," the merc said politely, consulting his omni-tool.

I saw a dark-haired man in a very expensive white suit trot down the stairs. The merc must've alerted him. "Is there a problem here," he asked.

"No, Mr. Hock," the merc assured him. "Just doing a scan." He started scanning the statue slowly. To pass the time, Hock turned to me. "I don't believe we've met," he said. I absently noted the exotic accent he had. Afrikaans, if I wasn't mistaken. "Donovan Hock."

"I've heard a lot about you," I smiled, extending a hand. "Solomon Gunn."

He refused to shake my hand, keeping his clasped behind his back. His posture said "I'm too good to shake hands with the likes of you." I'll admit, though, that his eyes held a lot more respect. "You've been very busy lately, if the extranet is to be believed."

Guess the paperwork for my little legend passed muster. "For the most part, it's accurate," I shrugged. "Though they tend to add a few zeroes to the number of bad guys that piss me off or buildings that get blown up."

"Typical," he sniffed. "Anything to please the masses."

"Sir," the merc interrupted, "the scanners aren't picking anything up. At all. I can't get any readings on this statue one way or the other."

Hock appraised the statue with a keen eye, like a businessman estimating the worth of a piece of art. "I don't think our guests would come all the way here from Ilium just to cause trouble," he decided. "Do you?"

"Better not," I broke in, injecting a sour note into my voice. "I had enough trouble getting it _off_Illium. Damn asari wanna tax everything."

The merc gave me a polite smile to me, nodded his assent to Hock like the good little lapdog he was and wrapped up his scan without further ado. Hock turned back to me. "You may pass through, Mr. Gunn, with my apologies."

One bullet dodged.

"But I will ask your companion to remain outside. You understand, I hope."

And there's the catch. "Any particular reason why my friend has to stand outside?" I asked.

"I don't like the look of your 'friend,' so she stays outside," he replied, looking down at her figuratively and literally—she was quite petite, after all. "Simple as that."

"No problem. Your house, your rules," I nodded, cursing to myself.

"Enjoy the party," Hock said before returning inside. Kasumi and I stepped to the side while the mercs started moving the statue. "Well, that went well," I said dryly.

"Definitely not what I expected," she sighed.

"Any idea why he'd send you away?" I asked. "Maybe he recognized you from one of your earlier jobs?"

"No, we've never seen each other in person," she said. "And no one knows what I look like."

"So he's just being an ass?"

"Or watching his ass," Kasumi shrugged. "I can't blame him."

Yet another plan that didn't survive first contact with the enemy. I really shouldn't be surprised. "So now what do we do?"

"We go on with the plan," Kasumi shrugged. "You'll just have to do all the talking. I'll stay out of sight and stick with you the best I can."

I looked over my shoulder. No one was looking at us. I tilted my head towards the stairs and headed for the door, Kasumi close on my heels. She was quite careful about the path she took to follow me, no doubt avoiding any sensors or cameras. As I started climbing the stairs, she engaged her cloak and vanished. Her disembodied voice whispered in my ear: "We'll keep radio contact in case something goes wrong."

Something else, I silently amended.

* * *

><p>Judging from the ballroom at the front door, Hock's mansion was <em>very<em>fancy. The walls and floors were made of some kind of earth-toned natural stone tiling, with muted lights embedded into the columns. Large expensive vases lined the entrance hallway before opening up into the main ballroom. Up ahead, I could see staircases winding up to the second story on each side of the room. They were situated in just the right position to frame a small pool, an impressive sculpture of some kind and floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed a breathtaking sunny afternoon.

"We need to find the vault door and case the security." Kasumi's voice said over the comm-piece embedded in my ear, interrupting my reconnaissance. "We'll figure out the next step then."

I acknowledged her hint by moving into the mansion. A small band was playing some kind of instrumental melody, with hints of classical music, which added to the quiet murmur of conversations from various thugs and ne'er-do-wells dressed up to the nines. It almost looked like one of those boring official shindigs I occasionally got dragged into.

"How did you ever contain that situation on Aleph?" a well-dressed man was asking an equally elegant woman.

"Oh that? A quick application of force, a little pressure, and bam! Done," she replied airily.

"Thank goodness. I thought that rabble would dog you for years." Okay, maybe it wasn't entirely like one of those boring official shindigs.

As I walked along, I noted that the walls near each staircase were filled with large portraits and landscapes, each one surrounded by ornate frames. Nothing tacky, mind you. But certainly expensive enough to say "I cost a fortune, but if you want to know the exact numbers, you clearly can't afford them."

My ears suddenly pricked as I heard my name. I concentrated on that conversation, while making sure I wasn't slowing down or staring. It was coming from a party over on my left. "Some say Commander Shepard is still alive," a woman sniffed. "Really!"

"Oh please," one of the men scoffed. "It's wishful thinking at best!"

Gee, thanks.

After a bit more moseying about, I found some stairs and snuck down. As I crept down the steps, I heard some guy asking his friend for his take on 'that guy Archangel.' "I hear he's dead," his companion said shortly. "Or gone, or something. Good riddance, I say."

Kasumi decloaked halfway along the corridor. I moved to join her. As soon as I'd caught up with her, she walked towards the wall. A panel shimmered away in front of her, revealing a room that had been disguised by the holographic projection.

"Very nice," Kasumi noted. "There's more here than I expected."

I didn't respond at first. I was too busy staring at the statue of Saren. It stared back at me. I remembered all the fun I had chasing him down. And the nice twist when he got possessed and transformed by Sovereign via all his Reaper implants. Like the ones in my body.

All right. Enough with the déjà vu. I shook my head and looked around.

Aside from the statue, the room was mostly blank. That quickly drew my attention to the various panels and displays embedded in the wall on either side of an elevator door, which in turn was protected by a glowing orange grid. "Well?" I asked.

"Kinetic barrier. Password protected voice lock. DNA scanner—looks like an EX-700 series," Kasumi identified. "Everything a vault needs to be impenetrable."

"This going to be a problem?"

"Please," she laughed. "Remember who you're talking to."

"Right," I nodded. "So what's the plan?"

"The barrier can be bypassed easily. We just have to cut the power. Never fails—if we can find it. We'll need to get a voice sample for the voice lock—you'll have to go chat up Hock for that. We'll need a password, too. DNA? Child's play. We should find plenty of DNA samples in Hock's private quarters.

"Keiji could get through a system like this in his sleep," she said softly. "And I'm better. Let's get to it."

We quickly left, with Kasumi activating her cloak again. Not for the first time, I marvelled at how her cloak could last more or less indefinitely, while mine couldn't go for more than six seconds or so without cutting out. Of course, she needed a long-lasting cloak in her line of work more than I did.

The corridor had another set of stairs leading up on the far end, so that's where we went. I was almost there when I noticed a access panel on the floor. Lifting it up, I saw a bunch of power cables.

Kasumi was one step ahead of me. "Power cables. At least one of them connects to the barrier protecting the vault. I'll set your omni-tool to scan for electromagnetic fields."

I heard a barely audible buzz as she uploaded the parameters and activated my omni-tool. Very nice, though I'd have to remember to ask her how she did that. Mostly so I could prevent anyone else from pulling that trick again in the future.

After a few minutes, the buzz turned into a sharp ticking. It was coming from a small statuette on a bookshelf embedded in one of the alcoves. I tried to lift it, but it was stuck, so I resorted to tugging. To my surprise, the statuette pivoted forward like a lever. A stack of books receded into a hidden cavity, revealing a small control panel.

"One sec." Kasumi decloaked and started bypassing it. I looked behind her, but no one else was there. Too busy enjoying the champagne and appetizers, I'm sure. I heard a sharp sizzle and crack, the kind I normally heard when an EMP shorted out some poor sap's shields. Looking back, I saw a small puff of smoke rise from the control panel. "That should take care of the barrier," Kasumi said with satisfaction before cloaking again.

Next we, or I, had to chat with Hock.

"There he is," Kasumi whispered. Looking around, I saw him chatting with someone near the sculpture. "All you need to do is keep him talking long enough for me to get a voiceprint. Pull out the charm on this one, Shep. Whenever you're ready."

I gave a subtle nod and headed towards Hock. He was just wrapping up his conversation when I arrived, and turned to me.

"Mr. Gunn," he greeted me. "I hope you're having a good time."

"I am, thank you," I smiled politely. "You have an incredible place."

"Nothing less than I deserve after all my hard work, not to mention the successes from my numerous and brilliant business ventures," Hock preened. "That scene at the door hasn't soured your evening, I hope," he added, belatedly remembering his role as the dutiful host.

"Not at all," I laughed. "I understand the security, but I'm surprised that anyone would dare try to break into Donovan Hock's home."

As I'd guessed, the flattery paid off. Hock puffed up like a peacock before replying. "In our line of work, we attract a certain element. Few understand the pains we take to keep the barbarians at bay. All people want these days are comfort, entertainment and love. That's all they ever see—their silly little dreams and fantasies. They don't see that the galaxy is fragile.

"But what could you expect from the masses? They only have to worry about simple luxuries. Why? Because people like me—and you—are doing the terrible things that keep the galaxy spinning."

While Hock had a quiet voice, he certainly didn't make any effort to keep his conversation private, the way he was gesturing and posturing. By this point, a lot of people had stopped talking and were paying attention to him. Hock noticed this as well.

"This party is for us," he said, raising his voice and spreading his arms expansively. "The cleaners. The realists. The support structure for the galaxy's gleeful delusions of peace. May there always be a market for the things we do!"

Everyone dutifully started applauding, including me of course. Hock gave a short bow here and there, as if acknowledging his monologue was the highlight of some theatre performance. Kasumi gave a chuckle that I barely caught over all the clapping.

"I said get him talking, and you got him talking," she said. "We've got enough of a voice sample. Let him go. Once we find that password, we can get past the voice scanner."

I had a good idea where we could find the password too. So I said my goodbyes to Hock and resumed my wandering, gradually making my way towards a locked door I saw earlier. There a couple... well, civvies doesn't seem quite right, does it? Anyways, there were a few men and women nearby, but they were busy debating whether the Blue Suns or the Eclipse were the better merc group. Sounded like quite the discussion, judging from all the bantering and gesturing. I paused for a moment, both to make sure they were distracted and to wait for Kasumi to catch up.

"Looks like that door leads to a security room," Kasumi said. "I got the lock." The door hissed open a second later and I slipped inside.

The security room was at the end of a small corridor. Kasumi decloaked outside the security room door and tapped her omni-tool. "Two guards," she whispered, gesturing at the room. "Ready when you are."

I nodded, pulled out my pistol with one hand and started to bypass the lock with the other. As soon as I was done, I took a step back, looked at Kasumi and lifted three fingers. She pulled out her own sidearm and got into position. I counted down, folding my fingers until I formed a fist, then made a yanking motion. On cue, Kasumi opened the door and we burst inside.

"You can't be back here," one of the guards cried out, just before Kasumi shorted out his shields. I replied with a burst of plasma and took cover behind a desk while he flailed about. A few seconds later, he collapsed to the floor. His partner carefully sent a few rounds of fire at Kasumi, just enough to make her stay back. She obliged until her omni-tool was ready and then zapped his shields too. I rose up, lifting my pistol. He pointed his assault rifle at me. Instinctively, I made the usual eye motions to activate my cloak, forgetting that I didn't have a HUD with eye-motion tracking tech.

Much to my surprise, I felt as much as saw a shimmering field sweep over me. A second later, the remaining merc took a step back and looked around in confusion. Either he'd suddenly gone blind or I had just cloaked. But I wasn't wearing my hardsuit...

...unless the cloaking technology was built into my _body_instead of my _armour_. Holy shit!

Deciding not to look gift horses in the mouth, I sent a shot through his eye. A second later, I decloaked again. Wow. Okay. This was definitely unexpected.

I turned to Kasumi who was looking as shocked as I must have been. "Um... surprise?" I tried. This development actually explained a few things. There were already way too many implants stuffed inside my innards as it was. Chances are there probably wasn't room for a battery big enough to keep the cloak going indefinitely.

Kasumi took pity on my confusion and quickly changed the topic. "I have an idea. Look around, see what you can find."

She went to the corner and started rummaging. I turned my attention to the desk. Computer console, a monitor set to the KTV channel—judging from the logo and the krogan blasting away—a bunch of monitors and a datapad. Lifting up the datapad, I skimmed the contents. Some guy named Samuels complaining to another guy—Reems— about all the passwords they had to remember, including "PERUGGIA." The last one was a mouthful, apparently, but it didn't matter since it was for the voice lock, so only Hock would have to work his mouth around it. Oh, and did Samuels want to sneak away and knock back a few beers?

I chuckled at that last one. Kasumi overheard me. "Shep? Got something?"

"The password is 'Peruggia,'" I told her.

"Huh. Vincenzo Peruggia was the man who stole the Mona Lisa," she said. "Nice."

"How about you?" I asked. "You said you had an idea."

"Yeah, I tapped into their communications," she nodded. "Maybe it'll come in handy. I also downloaded the schematics for this place." She started tapping at her omni-tool. "Now... I just take the voice sample we got from Hock and... got it! Now we can crack that voice scanner."

"Two down," I grinned. "All we have to do is get some of Hock's DNA—preferably not from his own mouth—and we're set. Any idea where his quarters are?"

"Downstairs. There's a door leading there from the ballroom. Outside on the left."

"The door with the guard outside?"

"Yep."

Crud. "Any other ways in?"

"We could vault over the balcony on the far end of the room, over on the right," she shrugged. "But there are more guards there."

Just once, I'd like to complete a mission without shooting my way out. "Let's go back outside and scout around," I decided. "There must be a better way in."

It took about ten minutes of wandering, but we eventually found that way. One of the mercs had been sloppy enough to leave a datapad lying around. Most of the data on it was encrypted or deleted, but there was one message in the e-mail software inbox:

_Pvt. Reems:_

_No way we can sneak out of that party. The place is locked down tight, and Security Chief Roe's in charge. No Way Roe would let that get past her._

_I'd rather stand around bored on guard duty than risk her wrath. Sorry._

—_Samuels _

Kasumi must've been reading over my shoulder. "Chief Roe, huh? She sounds like a hard-ass."

"Uh, huh," I murmured. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Oh yeah. You go ahead. I'll get into position."

I headed for the door that Kasumi said led into Hock's private quarters, the one with the goon standing outside.

"Mr. Hock's private rooms are off-limits to guests without security clearance," he said.

"I have clearance to go in," I lied.

The merc got right up in my face and practically snarled at me. "On whose authority?"

"I have authorization from Chief Roe."

"Okay, one sec." The merc lifted his omni-tool to his mouth. "Chief Roe?"

A second later, 'Chief Roe' responded, thanks to Kasumi and the backdoor route she'd used to hack her way into the merc's comm network. "What?"

The merc actually jumped. "Um... Samuels here, ma'am. Have you given access authorization to Mr. Hock's private rooms?"

"They have access, Samuels," she said in an irritated voice. "Now stop bothering me."

"Got it, sir. Uh, I mean, ma'am. Sorry to bother you, ma'am." He looked at me. "Okay. You're clear to go in. Enjoy the party."

I smiled sympathetically and went along a tastefully-furnished corridor, down a flight of stairs and traversed another corridor to Hock's bedroom. Kasumi met me there, decloaking outside the entrance. "Okay, we'll split up once we get in. Look for anything we can get usable DNA from. Just make it quick and quiet."

Hock didn't have the enormous suite that I was expecting, but his room was at least twice the size of my quarters—which is pretty damn big. **(5)**

I went over to the nearest couch first. What I found made me laugh.

"Found a sample?" Kasumi asked.

"No. A credit chit," I explained.

"You're rich, Shepard. Now you can retire and live a life of luxury," she smirked, managing to joke despite the importance of this particular job.

"Maybe this'll yield more luck," I said, noting a datapad on a desk by the wall.

"We can probably get Hock's DNA off the datapad," Kasumi agreed. She was scanning a DNA sample off a wineglass. "What does it say?"

"Basic summary of previous attempts to crack Keiji's greybox," I replied, scanning its contents. "Looks like Hock's experts tried various decryption algorithms based on 4800 different languages and Keiji's family history. Now he's speculating that the key may be a memory or smell or something, and that alternate measures may be required. Hock seems to have obsessed over it."

I tried a bunch of papers that provided more details on Hock's efforts to access the greybox's secrets, but there was no DNA there. So I moved on to a set of antique swords hanging in a display case. "How're you doing, Kasumi?" I asked.

"Got some more DNA off another couch, but I couldn't find anything on his pillows, bed sheets or ashtray," she reported. "Guess the cleaners must be really thorough. She looked up and saw where I was. "The housekeepers wouldn't dare touch treasures like that. We can get some skin cells from the dust."

After a few more minutes, we got together and combined our scans into one composite DNA signature. "That should do it," Kasumi nodded. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait," I protested. "What about that?"

She followed my gaze, then looked back at me. "It's a _plant_."

Stifling the urge to quibble about whether Hock had a green thumb, and whether we could get any viable DNA samples that weren't contaminated with plant DNA, we hurried back to the vault door. The barrier was already down, thanks to our earlier sabotage. One security layer down...

The speed at which Kasumi darted towards the voice identification system betrayed her eagerness to get into the vault.

"Password required."

"Peruggia," Hock's voice boomed from Kasumi's omni-tool.

"Voice ID accepted. Welcome, Mr. Hock."

I got to the DNA scanner a second later. Technically, my role would be much trickier. Normally you'd slap your thumb or finger or something on the scanner, let it take a sample of DNA and compare the resulting signature stored in its 'authorized list,' and wait for the 'all-clear.' What I was trying to do was bypass the sampling step, upload my composite DNA signature to the system, skip straight to the DNA comparison step and hope the mish-mash of samples we'd obtained wasn't too badly degraded to get a match.

"DNA identification confirmed. Welcome, Mr. Hock."

Without further ado, the elevator doors to the vault slid open. To be honest, I couldn't believe it worked. I waited for a moment to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Kasumi must have mistaken my hesitation for an exaggerated sense of modesty.

"I'll check for security cams. Go ahead and get dressed," she laughed.

I thought about correcting her, then dismissed that idea. It wasn't that important.

Kasumi did find some security cams, as it turned out, so she hacked them and set up a loop that overwrote about an hour of footage. Specifically, the hour that recorded our entrance during our initial reconnaissance and our return with all the goodies we needed to crack the vault security system. Meanwhile, I'd popped open the hidden shelf in the Saren statue—after taking another minute to stare at Saren's creepy visage—and started suiting up.

While Kasumi had taken her sweet time in giving me the details, she had dropped the hint that I'd be sneaking around. Somehow, an Alliance special forces guy who had withstood slaver attacks on Elysium, become the first human Spectre, and saved the collective asses of TPTB didn't strike me as being the kind of fellow who could keep a low profile. So, just in case Kasumi had me going in as someone else, I had chosen the modified Eclipse hardsuit I'd swiped a while back. **(6)** Brand-spanking new, and had nothing that could be traced back to Shepard—either as the Alliance and Citadel hero or the Cerberus cybernetic zombie. By the time I'd finished patting myself on the back for my foresight, put on my hardsuit, powered it up and did a system check, Kasumi had finished covering our tracks. So we grabbed our weapons, made sure they were loaded and headed for the elevator.

* * *

><p>It's been ages since I've been to any kind of museum, particularly an art museum. From what I dimly remember, Hock's private vault was roughly the size of two average-sized galleries put together. Pieces of art—mostly sculptures—were carefully laid out throughout the vault at standard intervals.<p>

"So this is Hock's vault," Kasumi admired. "Very nice."

"Is that what I think it is," I asked, pointing at one of the sculptures.

Kasumi followed my finger. Her eyes widened in shock. "How did Hock get Lady Liberty's head?"

I shrugged. "Either someone smuggled it off Earth and sold it to someone, who sold it to someone, who sold it to someone, and so on and so on until Hock got his hands on it..." **(7)**

"Or?"

"Or we took one too many trips through a mass relay and wound up in an alternate universe."

"Damn you, Hock!" Kasumi cried out on cue. **(8)**

Then she got down to business and uploaded a program to my omni-tool. "Let's split up and search for the greybox," she said. "This program will home in on it. It can't be far."

While Kasumi trotted towards the centre aisle, I checked out the displays along the wall. There were lots of stuff there. Michelangelo's David. A sculpture of a rachni queen—that brought back memories, believe me. A statue of some krogan.

"Oh my god! There it is!"

I joined Kasumi by one of the displays in the centre aisle, close to Lady Liberty's head. The greybox was sitting there, next to a pair of submachine guns. The guns looked like they were in excellent condition, which wasn't surprising given that this was part of Hock's private art collection. Then I took a closer look.

Kasumi jerked her head up from the greybox when she heard me whistle. In response to her questioning gaze, I nodded at the guns. "Those guns are really convincing props," I said. "They actually look like Kassa Locusts!" I said.

She bent over and scrutinized the weapons. "No..." she said after a minute. Standing up, she stared at me and pointed to one of them. "It's real. It's _the_Kassa Locust. Look at the serial number."

I peered over and read the serial number. Kasumi was right. I was staring at an original Kassa Locust. The gun that killed two presidents.

I carefully picked it up, half afraid that it would shatter in my hands. I needn't have worried—this baby was built to last. The old adage about things not being made like they used to definitely applied in this case. And this weapon was equal—if not better—than most of the submachine guns floating around the galaxy today. "Gorgeous," I admired.

"Looks like it comes with a copy," I said, picking it up and handing it to Kasumi.

"A working copy," she added. "I'm sure Hock won't mind if we 'borrowed' these." She admired it herself for a moment before turning her attention to the greybox. With a wave of her omni-tool, she brought up a holographic display of the greybox's lock. Biting her lip, she began decrypting it. While she was busy tapping holographic buttons, I moved to the door at the far end of the room.

"_Don__'__t __bother, __Ms. __Goto,__"_ a voice boomed out. _"__It__'__s __codelocked.__"_

I whirled back just in time to see Hock's disembodied head appear in front of us, magnified so his head filled the room. Sort of like his ego, come to think of it.

"_I __had __a __feeling __that __was __you __at __the __door,__"_ Hock said. _"__I __knew __if __it __was _really _you, __you__'__d __get __through __anyway.__"_

"You know me," Kasumi smiled coldly. "I don't like to disappoint."

"_I need what's in that greybox, Kasumi. You know I'm willing to kill you for it. I'll admit your skills are impressive. You conned that fool Gunn into being your escort long enough to get you to my mansion."_

Obviously he didn't realize we were actually partners in crime. And whatever vid-cams he had in here must've been zoomed in on Kasumi, otherwise he would have realized the 'fool' was more than just an 'escort.'

"_You cracked my security like it was never there. And you got into my vault like I'd left it open. But you're still going to die, screaming, just like your old friend."_

As Hock babbled away, I was attaching a disruptor mod to my new Locust submachine gun. Tricky little devil. Damn thing wouldn't attach. My finger braced itself against the trigger guard as I struggled with the mod. A sudden shattering sound rang out.

"_Nooooo!" _

My eyes darted from my Locust to the remains of what was once a very ornate vase. Oops.

Kasumi quickly improvised. "Hand slipped," she said innocently.

Hock scowled.

"Do I have your attention?"

Before Hock could reply, Kasumi's omni-tool beeped. Good—her programs must've broken through the codelock. Now all we had to do was get out.

Hock must've realized that as well. _"__Kill __her!__"_ he ordered, before his head vanished.

A squad of mercs charged into the vault a second later. They were wearing the yellow and black pattern which was more typical of Eclipse mercs. Before they could find cover, I cloaked and sniped one of them. Kasumi launched an EMP that knocked out the shields for two of the mercs. As soon as I had a clear shot, I fired off some plasma fire.

"Where'd he come from," one of the mercs squawked, before tossing a grenade my way. I immediately ducked behind cover and waited for it to explode in a shower of shrapnel. Instead, it sent out a burst of blinding light and a high-pitched squeal. Some kind of flashbang grenade. **(9)** Made it real hard to see where everyone was. The effects only lasted a few seconds, but that was long enough for the mercs to find cover.

Checking my HUD, I noticed that most of the mercs were on my side. Naturally. I signalled for Kasumi to lay down some cover fire while I took out the lone merc on Kasumi's side with my sniper rifle. His shields were already shot, so I didn't even have to cloak. Instead, I generated some more plasma and lit up another merc.

To my surprise, the merc leader—who I later learned was the infamous Chief Roe—spat a ball of plasma at me. Now my shields are pretty good at withstanding the kinetic impact of various weapons, but it wasn't exactly optimized to handle high-temperature plasma, so it quickly shorted out. By the time I dove back under cover, I had taken quite a few hits.

It was quickly becoming apparent that these Eclipse mercs would be a bit more difficult to take down. Especially since I only had one other member on my squad. Time to switch things up a bit.

I grabbed my submachine gun, waited until my shields recharged and cloaked. Standing up, I started strafing the mercs. Nothing lethal. Just enough fire to knock out as many shields as I could. Kasumi focused her EMP on Chief Roe, but was only able to bring her shields down by a third. As befitting a leader, her rig was quite a sight better. Even had some extra armour plating welded on, I saw. As my cloak collapsed, I stayed upright a moment longer to deal a bit more damage.

That wound up being a bit of a mistake. While I was firing, and the mercs were firing back, Chief Roe launched something from her omni-tool. Some piece of tech that hovered above the ground and generated some kind of red-coloured holographic shell, with some kinetic barriers thrown in.

"Kasumi," I called out. "Red thing: what is that?"

"Combat drone."

You could spit out combat drones from your omni-tool now? I really had to start catching up on all those tactical reports Cerberus had compiled for me. "What can they do?"

"Low-grade concussive pulse that can knock out shields," Kasumi replied. The drone demonstrated that weapon a second later, shorting out my shields and knocking me back. Staggering, I rose to a semi-standing position as I tried to regain my balance.

Big mistake. I took way too much fire while I was out of cover. I glimpsed the drone's red shell flickering away and its physical chassis dropping to the ground. Guess the power source burned out its innards pretty darn quickly. Small comfort for me, though. By the time I ducked back down, my sight was getting hazy, my heart was pounding away and I could swear I was tasting blood in my mouth. Thankfully, my hardsuit's medical systems engaged a minute later, injecting medi-gel to get me back on my feet. Figuratively, of course—I wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

I got up to fire another plasma round, only to have my shields zapped by yet another drone. What they lacked in durability they made up for in sheer volume. Before I dove for cover once more, I set another merc on fire.

By that point, it was just us and Chief Roe, merrily exchanging plasma fire, combat drones and gunfire at us. Well, me at least. She seemed to peg me as the greater threat for some reason. Kasumi took advantage of her distraction to take down the last of her shields. I was quick to follow up with some plasma fire to peel off some of her armour. It took some more fire to burn through her armour and turn her into a crispy-fried merc, but you know what they say about being slow and steady.

With a sigh of relief, I got up and started collecting thermal clips to replace the ones I'd used up. Meanwhile, Kasumi consulted her omni-tool. "Checking blueprints..." she said when I looked at her. "There's a landing pad to the east of here."

"Joker," I said urgently, "bring the shuttle in. Now!

While Joker confirmed our order and remotely powered up the shuttle, Kasumi and I left Hock's art gallery and headed for the extraction point. We entered some kind of room, with pipes running along the ceiling and various barrels and crates scattered everywhere.

I felt a sudden tingling at the back of my neck. Following my instincts, I motioned for Kasumi to take cover. We had just settled in behind a bunch of barrels when a set of doors at the far end opened up and revealed two things. First—we were in some kind of underground tunnel system, large enough to move a lot of cargo. Probably how Hock smuggled his artwork into his private sanctum.

Second—another bunch of mercs were heading our way, guns blazing. They didn't seem fazed by the fact that Kasumi was accompanied by a fellow Eclipse merc, if the bullets were any indication. Guess the Eclipse hardsuit didn't help after all. Still, we took them down quickly enough.

As the last merc fell, though, we saw someone blindly firing in our general direction. Or something, based on all the clanking we suddenly heard.

Aw, crap.

As if my worst fears needed confirming, a YMIR-class heavy mech stomped into view. I waited for Kasumi to start sending EMPs at it.

Instead, she tersely told me "Going silent," and cloaked.

"What the..." I cloaked myself and fired a sniper round at the mech's head. Did a little bit of damage, but nothing amazing. A few seconds later, Kasumi decloaked and sent a surge of energy into the mech's shields. The mech turned around and aimed at her.

Kasumi cloaked before the mech had a chance to fire and retreated to my position. When her cloak dropped, I glared at her. "Let's stay as far away from the mech as possible, okay? We'll whittle it down bit by bit."

At least she had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Shep. Just wanted to see if I could find a weak point. Didn't find one, though. Only thing I got out of it was one heck of—"

She broke off as the YMIR fired a rocket over our heads. "—one heck of an adrenaline rush and the chance to damage its shields a bit," she finished.

We waited until Kasumi's omni-tool had built up enough of a charge. On the count of three, we popped up. Kasumi launched an EMP while I unleashed a couple bursts of weapons fire at its head. The good news was that we reduced its shields to a mere fraction.

The bad news was that Kasumi took several hits and dropped like a rock.

My cloak, probably the only thing that saved me from meeting Kasumi's fate, chose that moment to shut down. I zapped the last of its shields before ducking down and checking on Kasumi. Vitals looked good, from what I could tell. Shields took the worst of it. But there was enough kinetic energy remaining from the YMIR's weapons to knock her out.

At least its shields were down. All I needed were six rounds of plasma fire and two headshots with the sniper rifle and the mech blew up in a spectacular explosion.

You'd think that that would be it. But no, there just had to be three or four more Eclipse mercs remaining. One of them was a biotic, judging from the glowing energy field surrounding him. He was the first one I fired the rest of my thermal clip at before setting him on fire.

Ducking behind a column, I ejected my thermal clip and popped in a new one. Then I took a deep breath and peeked back out. The mercs were scrambling to find any cover, especially cover that could give them a good vantage point to fire at me. Unfortunately for them, I was done being stingy with my clips. Or frugal. Frugal sounds better. Point is, now that there was no one else looking out for my wellbeing, I was prepared to use up as many thermal clips as it took to take out their shields and barbeque them one by one.

Just as I dropped the last one, Hock called out over some sort of loudspeaker. "They're out of the vault. Seal them in."

A moment later, a set of shutters slammed down in front of me.

"Damn it!" Kasumi cried out in frustration. She had evidently regained consciousness while I was busy playing hide-and-seek. "We'll have to find another way out."

"Any ideas?" I asked, pointing at an access hatch off to the side.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do," she said, scooping a thermal clip and handing it to me. "One that'll avoid a good number of Hock's goons."

"I already like this plan," I replied, pocketing the clip.

* * *

><p>"I hate this plan," I grumbled.<p>

Kasumi's brilliant plan, as it turned out, made use of the schematics she'd downloaded earlier. Specifically, the ventilation system. It was only a matter of seconds before she found the closest vent and opened it. "After you," she said politely.

"Ladies first," I frowned.

"Oh no, I insist," Kasumi urged. "Besides, if we ran into any trouble, you're better equipped to handle it."

"You mean I can soak up more bullets."

"Yeah, that too," Kasumi smirked.

I glared at her.

She tilted her head towards the vent. "Tick, tock, Shep."

Stifling a grumble, I got to my hands and knees and squeezed my way into the vent. A soft pitter-patter told me that Kasumi was close on my heels. We crawled for what seemed like forever through a corridor and past a room that housed no less than eight YMIR mechs. Almost gave us a heart attack before we realized they were powered down. In hindsight, the fact that they were squatting on shelves in two rows of four might have given us a clue.

The LOKI mechs in the adjoining cargo bay however, were very much active. As were the mercs. Peering through the vent, I noted all the crates and barrels and...

...and the Mako.

Boy, seeing that old warhorse sure brought back memories. Memories of driving across planet after planet—many of which looked remarkably similar—prospecting for resources, shooting mercs and geth... and giving my squadmates a lot of bruises and heart attacks as I insisted on driving over every large boulder and off of any cliffs that were between me and whatever I was driving towards.

Come to think of it, maybe that was why Garrus now spent all his time in the gunnery instead of down in the garage. Must've figured that life was too short to waste repairing vehicles, when I'd probably break them over and over again.

Then I got an idea. "Kasumi? See the Mako down there?"

"Yep."

"What is its status?"

"According to the records, you won't be able to drive it anywhere," Kasumi replied with a smile, catching on to my plan, "but the guns work just fine."

"Cover me," I grinned. "My turn to go silent."

I activated my cloak, eased my way out of the vent and scooted over to the Mako. For once, the universe was on my side—someone had been running diagnostics on it and it was already powered up.

Looking around, I saw a large gas tank dead ahead. So that's what I fired at. Figured the explosion would make a nice distraction.

The explosion wound up punching a hole in the wall and sending tons of shrapnel, debris and superheated fuel flying around. More than enough to take out all the mercs.

I love the smell of mass accelerator discharge in the morning. Smells like victory.

"That did it," Kasumi said brightly when I returned. She handed me a pack of platinum.

"When the heck did you have time to go..." I broke off as Kasumi gave me a look. "Never mind."

"_What the hell are you people doing down there?"_

Guess Hock heard the explosion. Oops.

Kasumi and I resumed our crawl through the vents. I had to admit, it was kinda nice to have someone with a similar instinct towards kleptomania and a total lack of shame about it. I said as much.

"Oh, it was nothing," Kasumi said modestly. "I hope you're okay with this vent idea."

"It's refreshing to actually sneak by mercs instead of shoot them," I admitted.

"Yeah," Kasumi chirped. "Besides, this way, I get to stare at your cute little butt."

On second thought, shooting mercs wasn't so bad.

Speaking of which, the ventilation shaft led to a ceiling vent built into some kind of cargo bay. Hopping down on a support beam, we peered down to see crates (of course), barrels (of course) and mercs (of course).

With another YMIR mech (of course).

We shimmed along the support beam, hoping to make it to the other side of the cargo bay and find some kind of exit. We were two-thirds of the way across when the YMIR mech tilted its head. Stupid sensors.

Without pausing to think—something I was depressingly adept at—I jumped off the support beam towards a stack of crates, Kasumi close on my heels. Hopping down the stack, we huddled behind a couple barrels. "Concentrate on taking out the mech's shields," I shouted over the comm. "I'll handle the mercs!"

Kasumi nodded and sent an EMP at the appropriate target. And then another, and then another. Once its shields were down, I had her switch to knocking out the shields of random mercs while I started melting its armour off one round at a time.

The mercs must have been sensed that we were pinned down, and their pet mech was great at laying down covering fire while they got closer. So they started moving around the mech towards areas that were closer to our position.

Just as I had planned.

As soon as the mech's armour was destroyed, I took out my sniper rifle and cloaked. Two headshots were enough to overload its systems. It swayed back and forth, collapsed...

...and exploded with a force comparable to a low-yield tactical nuke. A very low-yield, granted, minus the radioactive fallout, with enough energy to vaporize just about every merc in the vicinity. The only survivor was some chump way back who was firing rockets at us. Didn't take long to take him out.

"Don't fight me, Kasumi," Hock hissed over the loudspeakers. "You know what happened to your boy toy when he fought back."

"Don't you dare talk about Keiji like that, you murderer!" Kasumi yelled back.

"Kasumi," I warned. "Don't let him get to you." Last thing I needed was for her to get knocked out again. Or worse.

Kasumi's eyes were blazing, but she listened to me. At least, she relented long enough for me to drag her towards another vent—the things I do for the sake of the mission. Unfortunately, that vent only took us another hundred metres to a small storage room filled with supplies. Everything toiletries to cleaning supplies to paint to—ooh, thermal clips!

Just as I was about to pick them up, I heard a beep. Someone was about to come in. Motioning for Kasumi to hide, I grabbed a can of maroon paint and opened it. I swiped my fingers through it, closed the paint can and smeared it on my leg and along the side of my body. Then I slumped against a crate, angling myself so my grenade launcher was out of sight.

My timing was perfect, as three troopers barged in. It only took them a second to spot me.

"Over there," one of them shouted. The trio jogged over.

"Goddamn it," I cursed. "Bitch got in a lucky shot."

"Report," their leader ordered.

"That thief just blew through a bunch of us back in the last storage bay," I groaned. "The seven of us thought we could handle them." I snorted. "Boy were we wrong."

"What happened?"

"Must've hacked the YMIR. Damn thing turned on us after its shields and armour were toast."

"Are there any survivors?" the merc who'd first spoken asked.

"Beats me," I shook my head. "Shockwave from one of the YMIR's rockets sent me flying into the wall. Must've bounced my head against my helmet and got knocked out. I came to just in time to see her climb into that vent." I pointed up at a pipe in the ceiling that ran in a northerly direction.

"Can you get up?" the third one, who hadn't spoken up to this point, asked.

I made a show of trying to get up, then sagged back down with a groan. "Nope. Goddamn bullets must've dealt more damage than I thought."

"You stay here," the leader said. "We'll try to head them off. We'll send someone back with medi-gel as soon as we can."

"Don't worry about me," I waved them off. "Just get those assholes."

The three of them ran off. Guess the Eclipse hardsuit helped after all. Kasumi decloaked as soon as their footsteps faded away.

"Nice job," she grinned.

"Thanks," I said, "but we're not done yet. Help me up, will ya?"

"Hang on, I wanna grab these thermal clips first."

* * *

><p>Thanks to Kasumi's blueprints, we got to the landing bay without a single wrong turn. It was up on the roof, with lots of vents and pipes and crates scattered around. Perfect place for an ambush. So both of us cautiously moved forward, guns at the ready.<p>

Sure enough, we heard a deep humming sound approach us. Sounded like an...

...engine?

Aw, crap.

A gunship rose up into view a second later. It was encased in its own protective shield, which flowed over it like water over a rock. A very large, very dangerous rock that was spitting out gunfire like there was no tomorrow.

"Incoming!" I yelled. "Get down!"

We huddled behind a crate as gunfire ricocheted all around us. "We could have done this the easy way, Goto," Hock's voice boomed out. "Allow me to show you the hard way!"

A bunch of mercs showed up at that moment, as if on cue, and the fight was on.

Oddly enough, Hock wasn't too much of a threat—mainly because Hock was clearly not used to this combat stuff. If he had any combat training or experience, he'd have flown the gunship directly over us—thus negating our cover—and blown us to smithereens. Instead, he stayed safely away and shot at us from a distance, thus allowing us to take refuge. His reticence might have had something to do with his piss-poor piloting and aim, though. His gunship kept veering from side to side like a drunken marine and his aim wasn't exactly stellar. Granted, with the heat he was packing, he'd only need one lucky shot to take us out. But as long as we kept our wits about us, that wouldn't be much of a problem.

Therefore, we focused our efforts on the mercs. Kasumi knocked out one of the merc's shields while I shot a LOKI mech's head off. After pausing for a moment to catch my breath, I set 'Kasumi's' merc on fire while she kept the others occupied with some gunfire. Few more rounds of that and we were all clear. Even had the chance to take a sliver off of the gunship's shields.

Naturally another bunch of mercs arrived within a minute. Over on the left, this time. Smart—trying to flank us. Would've been smarter if they tried to get the drop on us while their buddies were keeping us occupied earlier, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Kasumi and I were did something different with the mechs—with me melting its armour with my plasma and her following up with an EMP, rather than the other way around. Other than that, it was business as usual—EMPs, plasma fire, gunfire, try not to get your shields too low, repeat. Once we reduced the opposition to two mercs who didn't have the benefit of shields, Kasumi could devote her EMPs to chip away at the shields of Hock's toy.

People with enough combat or tech experience would know that any EMP generated by an omni-tool would primarily be useful against infantry, simply because a hardsuit's power core can only generate so much energy. Trying to use it against a vehicle is like using a pistol against a Mako—better than nothing, but it's gonna take a lot of time.

And boy did it ever. Even though we took our sweet time eliminating the last couple mercs, and it took what seemed like forever before the next wave of mercs showed up, the gunship absorbed a _lot_of EMPs.

"Even if you escape, Kasumi, I'll scour the galaxy for you," Hock spat after the fifth or sixth pulse.

At first I thought that was a bit of defiance on Hock's part. According to my HUD, we had almost worn down his shields.

Then I saw them regenerate to full strength before my eyes.

Aw, crap.

"Do what you like to this gunship," Hock taunted. "I have a squadron of them."

Of course he would. Because collecting vintage aircars is so gauche.

Hock then switched to issuing orders to his mercs. "Careful, men. I want to keep her pretty face intact."

I couldn't really worry about the neat trick on Hock's gunship or the fact that my face wasn't pretty. Too busy sniping mercs or setting them on fire. I later found out that we took them out within ten minutes. Felt like longer. The fact that we didn't get much of a breather before yet another round of mercs popped up didn't help.

"More mercs to the left," Kasumi warned. "Gunship's back too and with full shields."

I gave her a funny look as I grabbed a thermal clip nearby and slotted it into my sniper rifle. "Yeah, it regenerated its shields when the last bunch of mercs showed up."

"Ah. Didn't notice with all the fun I was having," Kasumi said. "If I can get to the gunship, I can take down those shields."

"Right," I nodded. "Let's whittle down these mercs, then we can move you into position."

First I had to take out some annoying mercs who had the gall to carry rocket launchers. I cloaked and sighted down on one, tracking her as she moved towards cover. Exhaled. Pulled the trigger. Watched a puff of blood exit the back of her head before she dropped.

I tried the same with another merc, just as she fired a rocket at Kasumi. Reflexively, I twitched and my shot went wide. Second shot struck home, though. As I took my eyes of the scope and dropped back behind cover, I noticed that Kasumi was sitting on the ground, sporting a nasty shoulder wound.

"I'm fine," she said, waving me off. "My hardsuit will patch it up in a minute. Just finish off those mercs."

Easy enough. Only one more to go, and he didn't last very long.

Maybe Hock got impatient. Or he let his bloodlust get the best of him. Whatever the reason, he chose that moment to close in. "Got a clear shot," Kasumi told me. "Here we go!"

What I saw next was truly remarkable. Kasumi dashed for a set of fuel pipes that snaked up and along the building, ran up three parallel pipes like stairs before throwing herself at a horizontal pipe to the side. She swung over to a vertical pipe and pulled herself up, having carried enough momentum to actually lift herself up in the air before gently touching down on another horizontal pipe like a bird touching down for a landing. Then she ran along the length of the pipe towards Hock, who was trying to line up a clear shot on her and failing miserably.

Kasumi wasn't about to wait around until he fixed his aim. With a final sprint, she launched herself in the air, soaring across the sky before landing on the gunship. Somehow getting a grip despite the shields, she pointed her omni-tool at a precise location. With a flash of sparks, the gunship's shields started to fail, peeling away from Kasumi like the peel being removed from an orange.

The gunship lurched to the side, either because Kasumi's trick temporarily disrupted the navigational systems or because Hock was desperately trying to shake her off. Regardless of the reason, Kasumi clung on, swinging herself over to crouch on the cockpit windows. She gave a jaunty wave at Hock with her submachine gun, then dove off the gunship, curling at just the right moment to land gracefully on all fours back on the roof.

I don't think I could ever do something that impressive. I don't have the agility or flexibility. Or the legs.

"Shields down," Kasumi reported. "Now let's tear that thing apart."

"You should have died in the vault," Hock cursed. "Now you'll die in pieces! Your eyes will sell well on the open market!"

Says the guy who's gradually getting his gunship dismantled with every bullet and plasma fire, I thought. A round of bullets bouncing off my shields reminded me that he was also the guy who had a few more mercs on his payroll. So Kasumi and I spent some more time shooting and burning up mercs, while gradually digging chunks out of the gunship's armour.

Finally, my HUD told me the gunship was damaged enough. I cloaked, grabbed my sniper rifle and sighted on the engine coolant regulators. One shot was all I needed to turn Hock, his expensive clothes and his fancy gunship into one overpriced firework display.

Then we just had to occupy ourselves scooping up thermal clips, medi-gel and power cells until the shuttle arrived.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?"<p>

Kasumi had adapted one of the shuttle's computers to transfer the contents of Keiji's greybox into her own, while setting up a link that would allow me to see whatever memories she accessed on another terminal.

"You did everything I asked and more," Kasumi said firmly. "Even covered my butt while I was wounded. Or unconscious. Besides, if whatever Keiji found really is damaging to the Alliance, you'd know what to do with it."

Not knowing what to say, I just nodded silently. I pulled up Kasumi's vitals to monitor while confirming the link was good and let her plug Keiji's greybox into the computer. A Japanese man appeared on my monitor. Keiji Okuda, I presumed. He looked... sad.

The view changed to a dark room. Keiji and Kasumi were in the centre, with holographic displays arranged on the floor around them in concentric circles. Bits of light flickered back and forth as if they were following some invisible grid. _"Kasumi,"_ Keiji began, _"if you're seeing this... it's because I'm dead. The information we found is all here."_

Keiji gestured to his right. Dozens of thumbnails flickered into view with a hum, extending off into the distance. Presumably each thumbnail represented a specific memory. _"It's _big_, Kasumi,"_ he whispered. _"If the Council ever found out, the Alliance could be implicated."_

As Keiji talked, Kasumi slowly walked along the thumbnails. Glowing blue-green circles rippled from her footsteps, as if she was walking through some digital stream. For the first time, I noticed a small holographic visor over her eyes, both in cyberspace and in real life.

_"Kasumi, I... I encrypted the information to keep it safe, and I uploaded the encryption key to your greybox, so _no one_ can get the whole package."_

Kasumi stopped at one thumbnail and expanded it. The picture showed Keiji and Kasumi, just before they were about to kiss. She made a motion, and the picture turned into a... a memory video, I guess. Keiji was facing a window, a sunset off on the distant horizon. Behind him, Kasumi said something that drew his attention. He turned to face her, and she tilted her head to the side.

_"But if I'm dead, and if anybody knows about this, then I've made you a target, my love. I'm so, so sorry."_

"Keiji," Kasumi whispered as the video showed the two of them holding hands.

_"I know you, Kasumi. You'll want to keep these memories forever."_

Keiji bent over to give Kasumi another kiss. She let him do so for a second before pushing back onto a bed. This was starting to get awkward.

_"But you don't need some neural implant to know I'll _always_ be with you."_

Kasumi knelt on the bed and starting crawling towards Keiji.

_"Please, Kasumi. Destroy these files."_

On the monitor, I saw Kasumi tear her attention away from the video and back towards Keiji's recording. She ran back towards him, much to my relief. Watching that video was getting really uncomfortable.

_"There's nothing more I can do to protect you,"_ Keiji continued.

"I... I can't do that," Kasumi cried out, ignoring the fact that this recording probably wasn't advanced enough to respond to her. "This is all that's left."

_"Goodbye, Kasumi,"_ Keiji finished. _"I love you."_

Kasumi grabbed him for one last hug. The thumbnails moved until they surrounded the pair, like planets orbiting a star.

With a sudden chirp, the monitor went blank. _*Transfer complete*_ the monitor said. I looked over at Kasumi. The holographic visor had disappeared, allowing the hood of her hardsuit to cast a shadow over her eyes once more. By now, though, I was used to that shadow, so I could see the pain and heartache in her eyes.

"Is there any way we can just destroy the information?" I asked.

"No," Kasumi said sadly. "Keiji's a master at encrypting files. He laced the information into his memories. You can't get one without experiencing the other."

"You know what that information holds," I told her. "I agree with Keiji—that information _has_to stay buried."

"I know," she said brokenly. "I just... I never had a chance to say goodbye. Not really. I know destroying the information is the smart thing to do but... I can't. Not yet."

Goddamn it. Being the smooth-talker that I am, I could probably convince—or bully her—into wiping the information clean. So what if it eliminates Keiji's memories in the process? It's worth the cost, right? Right?

Goddamn it.

"If it's that important to you, keep it," I sighed. "Just make sure you're ready to live with the consequences." **(10)**

"Yeah, I am," Kasumi nodded. "I'll stay off the grid. No one will know I exist. And I'll install a subroutine so if I do get caught, I can wipe the data." She sat down in a seat. "I think I want... I think I need this. Thanks, Shepard."

* * *

><p>After we got back to the Normandy, I got caught up in work. So I didn't get to see Kasumi again until the next day.<p>

"I appreciate your help with the Hock heist," she said softly. "I've been going through Keiji's greybox. It's so nice to have him back, even in that form. I miss him."

"He sounded like a good man," I told her. "Willing to do what was right, both for the Alliance and for those he cared for."

"Yeah. Yeah, he was."

She tried to engage me in some small talk. Something about how Gardner's cooking had improved since I got him those provisions. But it was clear her heart wasn't in it, so I left her about a minute later. She was clearly still coming to terms with Keiji's death. Still grieving.

Sometimes those are the kinds of things that should be done alone.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Illium is a world developed to facilitate a steady flow of goods between the Asari Republics and the Terminus Systems. It is renowned for its glamour, luxury and safety—the latter enabled by constant surveillance systems—making it a favoured destination for tourists, celebrities and businesses. However, it is also infamous for its substantially relaxed custom laws and labour practises.<em>

_(2): A 'legend' is a term reserved for an alias or alternate identity, one used by individuals in the espionage profession._

_(3): Shepard ignores the fact that it may have been logistically difficult or impossible to bring more squad members in as backup. _

_(4):__ "__Non, __je __ne __regrette __rien,__" __by __É__dith __Piaf. __I __didn__'__t __understand __why __Shepard __picked __this __particular __song. __He __later __explained __that __it __was __used __in __a __2010 __science __fiction __film __called _Inception_, __which __incorporated __numerous __elements __such __as __heists, __memory __and __catharsis._

_(5): Military personnel are lucky if they get a sleeping pod or a bunk bed, and captain's cabins are rarely much larger than a small office. This means that Hock's quarters, while undoubtedly grand, are actually quite modest by luxury standards. _

_(6): Shepard is referring to an assignment he completed on my request shortly before the events on Bekenstein, the details of which are not relevant at this time._

_(7): The Statue of Liberty endured multiple terrorist attacks until finally being brought down by the group Freedom's First on November 1st, 2096. While it was rebuilt by the executive order of President Kaitlin Cheung, the original's head was put on display in the National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C. Regrettably, the head disappeared during heavy shelling by secessionist forces during the Battle of Washington in 2098. In 2159, photos surfaced that showed the head of the Statue of Liberty inside a freighter's cargo hold, but attracted minimal interest due to humanity's interest in colonizing new worlds, meeting new species and entering the galactic stage. _

_(8): A reference to 'Planet of the Apes,' a 1963 novel by Pierre Boulle that inspired numerous sequels and films, including a 1968 film by the same name starring Charlton Heston._

_(9): Flashbang grenades are designed to incapacitate rather than destroy, using various means of generating intense light and sound._

_(10): Uncharacteristically for Shepard, he never did explain what this 'secret' was, even in this private record. Clearly it was something so damning and inflammatory, he wasn't willing to discuss it, even under the rigorous firewalls and precautions he employed for his logs. _


	13. Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect 200 Creds

**Chapter 11: Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect 200 Creds**

After helping Kasumi out, I spent some time perusing the medical data behind the Lazarus Project to figure out just what had been done to bring me back. Most of it went over my head. What little I did understand was... disconcerting.

Every one of my original organs was replaced by cloned organs due to systemic tissue damage, most of which had implants attached to augment or regulate their normal functions. The composition of my bones had been modified on the molecular level to make them more resilient, thanks to a bunch of implants that did some wacky techno voodoo. My muscles were enhanced with some kind of mesh that increased tensile strength and reduced likelihood of tearing. And I had a network of cloaking projectors embedded throughout my body that provided temporary invisibility from visual or technological eyes, not to mention the ability to impart extra kinetic energy to the first shot or two fired while cloaked. On top of that, there were plenty of reports indicating that I could research various synthetic weaves that would make my skin and bones more durable, not to mention speed up medi-gel delivery for accelerated healing. **(1)**

Yeah, I was rebuilt. Cerberus had the technology. So did that mean I was man or machine? Clichés aside, that was a really creepy question.

So I was a bit relieved when we went to prison. It provided a nice distraction.

* * *

><p>Purgatory started out as an "ark ship" that held agricultural animals before being seized and repurposed by the Blue Suns into a maximum security prison ship. They held all sorts of prisoners, including people captured during Blue Sun operations, prisoners of war, and people sold by dirty politicians who wanted to outsource their prisoners. The worst of the worst were kept here. And Cerberus had paid good money to free one of them—'Jack'—to join me. I was starting to wonder whether I was skimming the cream of the crop or the bottom of the barrel.<p>

I met the squad at the airlock, still pondering that question. Not surprisingly, everyone was fully armed with every weapon and upgrade I'd laid my hands since this ridiculous journey started. Standard procedure, even if we weren't going into a prison full of hardened criminals and mercs. I couldn't say that, though. Bad form. Might scare the squadmates. Or me. So I pasted a smirk on my face and said "Don't you guys think you're taking this a little too far."

"Not really," Jacob shrugged. "The way I see it, someone will start shooting within thirty minutes."

"Ten minutes or less," Garrus disagreed. "Probably less."

"We started a pool while we were waiting for you," Kasumi explained. "I've got credits on an hour."

"So little faith," I tsked. "Maybe this time it'll be different. Maybe it'll be a simple business transaction concluded with politeness and civility."

Everyone gave me this look.

"It could happen."

The look still persisted. I sighed. "Fine," I relented. It was good to see that they were being realistic. "But no grenades," I added. Just to assuage my wounded pride.

"Aww," Kasumi and Zaeed pouted. Well, Kasumi pouted. Zaeed... made a face that looked really, really creepy and wrong on so many levels.

"How many weapons do you wanna take with you anyway?" I asked. "You only have two arms, after all."

"Says the man with a pistol, a submachine gun, a sniper rifle and—"

"Excuse me," I interrupted before Miranda could finish, "but I was asking a question."

"I just get excited thinkin' about all those choices," Zaeed grinned. "Like to keep my options open."

"I don't plan on any shooting taking place during this pick-up," I said pointedly.

"Aww," Grunt pouted. Somehow, it didn't look so out of place.

"Desires versus reality. Poor comparison. Lack of similarity," Mordin declared.

Before I could continue my argument, the airlock opened. A couple mercs were waiting for us. "Welcome to the Purgatory, Shepard," one of them greeted me. "Your package is being prepped, and you can claim it shortly."

Not prisoner or person. _Package_. Interesting.

"As this is a high-security vessel, you'll need to relinquish your weapons before we proceed."

Like hell I would. "I can't do that," I replied.

Before the guard could say or do anything, a voice calmly spoke: "Everyone stand down."

A turian—one without any facial tattoos—had just walked through the door, his steady, confident steps identifying him as the boss. "Commander, I'm Warden Kuril, and this is my ship."

"Love what you've done with the place," I offered.

Kuril smiled politely. "Your weapons will be returned on the way out. You must realize this is just a standard procedure."

"We're not surrendering our weapons," I replied simply. "Period."

We stared at each other for a minute.

Kuril blinked first. "Let them proceed," he told his guards. "Our facility is more than secure enough to handle eight armed guests." Turning me, he said "We're bringing Jack out of cryo. As soon as the funds clear, you can be on your way."

He gestured for us to follow him. "If you'll follow me to Outprocessing for the pickup, Commander."

I signalled the squad to follow Kuril, who led us along a circular corridor. Large glass panels built into the walls allowed us to observe the chambers below. "Cellblock Two," he said, following our gaze. "As you can see, we keep tight control over the population."

We could see large robotic arms below moving chambers from one wall to the other. "Each prisoner's cell is a self-contained, modular unit," Kuril revealed. "I've blown a few out the airlocks as an example."

Well, hurray for you.

"The ship is made up of 30 cell blocks identical to this one—we house thousands of criminals. We can put the whole place in lockdown on a moment's notice. Nothing goes wrong here."

Clearly, he hadn't watched any vids in a while. Otherwise, he'd know better than to jinx things like that. "Can you tell me about Jack?" I asked.

To my surprise, Kuril looked nervous. "Cerberus hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Jack is the meanest handful of violence and hate I've ever encountered."

Great.

"You have no idea what a dangerous, crazy and powerful... well, you'll see soon enough."

Well now that I'd shaken him, maybe I could get some more answers. "I'm curious. How did you end up running this ship?"

"I was in law enforcement on Palaven," Kuril replied, "and got sick of seeing criminals escape out into the galaxy to carry on with their crimes."

"Tell me about it," Garrus muttered.

"Cops can't or won't do anything outside their supposed jurisdiction. Bounty hunters aren't dependable."

"You're not hiring the right ones," Zaeed interrupted.

Kuril ignored him and continued. "Eventually I hit upon this idea. Keep the criminals in space and the galaxy is a safer place."

"You do this because you think it's necessary," I summarized.

The warden nodded. "Every day I see the worst sapient life has to offer. Governments are soft, unwilling to make the hard choices. Someone had to stand up and make the galaxy safe."

"Maintaining a population this size in space can't be cheap," I observed. "What with the cost of fuel and all."

"We can cut corners that governments can't," Kuril disclosed. "And each prisoner brings in a fee from his homeworld. These individuals are violent, you see, and their home planets pay well to keep them here."

I was starting to see where this was going. "And if the homeworld _doesn__'__t_ want to pay?"

"We explain that we can't maintain prisoners without their help," Kuril smiled politely, "so we'll be forced to release them back onto their homeworld... at an unspecified place and time."

"So it's an extortion racket," Miranda interpreted.

She received a cold glare from Kuril for her blunt, albeit accurate, appraisal. "You don't have to agree with my methods, but don't question my motives. These are despicable people and I am keeping them locked up."

"Have you had any escape attempts?" Garrus smoothly intervened, as if he was asking out of professional curiosity.

"We're in space," Kuril sniffed. "They have nowhere to go and they know it. If the vacuum of space isn't enough of a deterrent, we have a fleet of fighters ready to blow them to dust. But still, we exercise extreme caution. These are dangerous individuals."

He gestured below, where two prisoners were getting into a fight. A nearby Blue Sun tapped his omni-tool. A machine of some kind popped out, generated kinetic barriers around each prisoner, and separated them.

"We have many ways to control the population," Kuril said, stopping at an intersection. I looked over at him.

"I'm going to confirm that the funds from Cerberus cleared," he explained. "Outprocessing is straight down this hallway. Just keep going past the interrogation rooms and the supermax wing. I'll catch up with you later... Shepard."

Garrus waited until Kuril disappeared before shaking his head. "I don't trust him."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Kasumi agreed.

I would have wondered if Garrus's feelings were due to turian prejudices regarding 'barefaced' turians, but Kasumi and I both had the same concerns. **(2)** And I doubted we were the only ones.

Around the corner, we saw a row of cells. A turian merc was standing outside one of them, watching another merc beat up the prisoner inside.

"Commander, you seeing this shit?" Jacob exclaimed.

"Inhumane," Mordin agreed. "Unacceptable. Violation of basic organic dignity."

The guard outside the cell noticed us. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

"Why exactly are you beating up a prisoner who can't fight back?" I asked in return.

"This is a massage compared to what his victims went through," the guard retorted.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? I always thought the Blue Suns were a bunch of professionals. Professionals don't do this sort of thing. They've got more discipline than that."

Preachy crap, I know, but the Blue Suns prided themselves on being pros. If this guy had drunk enough of the proverbial punch, he just might fall for it.

The guard shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "We have orders."

"What? You're not important enough to make your own decisions?" I snorted.

"Well..."

"Oh, come on. Stop this. Do it because it's the 'right thing' and all that, or because pros don't stoop so low as to borrow from this punk's playbook."

"Yeah. You're right," he said after a minute. He opened a comm channel to his colleague. "Call it off. At least for now."

So all a guy had to do to stop the torture was to look all disapproving and go "Tsk, tsk?" Okay. Sure. Why not. Keep It Simple, Stupid, right? Satisfied that I'd done my good deed for the day, no matter how easy it was, I moved on. Well, I started to, before one of the other prisoners called me over.

"If you're buying prisoners, can you buy me?" he asked. "I don't care where you take me or what you do to me, man. It's gotta be better than this."

"Get yourself out," Grunt snorted. "We're here for Jack."

The prisoner—'Prisoner 780' according to his uniform—took a step back. "Jack? Forget what I just said. I don't wanna go nowhere with you."

Second guy to get freaked out by Jack. What did I get myself into?

"What do you know about Jack?" I asked.

"The worst trouble you ever saw, mixed with some crazy and way too much biotic power. That's all I'm saying."

"Why were they beating up that prisoner? Does he know something?"

He shook his head. "No, that's Bimmy—he don't know nothing. He offed someone in the showers yesterday, I think. Guy he killed was worth a lot to the warden. Yeah, sucks to be Bimmy right now."

"They were going at it pretty hard," I frowned. "Do they ever kill prisoners by accident?"

"Haven't heard of anyone dying," he shrugged. "Warden can't make money off of us if we're dead. Funny thing though—the more a guard does it, the meaner he gets. So they rotate them through."

Gee. What a shocker. But this guy brought up an interesting point, aside from the vicious cycle of abuse. "I thought this ship was a prison, not a market."

"Sometimes people buy cons so they can do some punishing of their own, if you understand," he replied. "Warden sells us to whoever can pay enough."

"So what are you in for?" I asked curiously.

The prisoner shrugged. "Oh. You know. I killed a few people. Only about 20 or so. Oh, and I blew up that one habitat. Small-time compared to most of the guys here."

That's all, huh? "I see," I said. "Well, I gotta go."

"Wish I could go," the prisoner muttered. "Haven't had a shower in three months."

* * *

><p>With all the evidence that this 'prison' was basically one big joke, it didn't take a genius to predict that things might go south. So I really wasn't surprised when we entered Outprocessing, walked through it to the other side and opened the next door to pick up Jack—only to find a nice cozy little cell instead.<p>

"_My __apologies, __Shepard,__"_ Kuril said over the loudspeakers. _"__You__'__re __more __valuable __as __a __prisoner__ than __a __customer. __Drop __your __weapons __and __proceed __into __this __cell. __You __will __not __be __harmed.__"_

Oh, well if he said I wouldn't be harmed despite everything I'd seen and heard, then he must be telling the truth. Not. "Yeah, I don't think so. Tell you what, though: you hand over Jack, and we'll try our best not to kill all your guards."

"_Activate systems!"_

I turned to my squad and grabbed my sniper rifle. "Too much?" I asked.

"Not at all," Miranda shook her head.

"Glad you agree," I nodded. "I did try one more time to make peace."

"I noticed."

"I just wanted to avert any unnecessary violence."

"Very thoughtful of you, Commander."

"It was, wasn't it?" I said.

"Perhaps we can pat ourselves on the back after we deal with the mercs," Garrus suggested. "Team Two take cover on the right; Team One on the left."

I should explain that.

Before we arrived at Purgatory, I had made a few minor adjustments to the team compositions to balance them out. Miranda, Grunt and Kasumi would follow me; while Garrus led Jacob, Zaeed and Mordin. Following Garrus's suggestion, the two teams took cover behind some sofas.

"By the way," Garrus added idly, "that was just under seven minutes. I believe I won the bet."

The people who had taken part in the bet—which was everyone, by the way—had just enough time to groan before the first round of mercs barged in through the door. Miranda, Garrus and Kasumi staggered their EMPs to knock out as many shields as possible—and also reduce the time we'd have to wait until someone had an EMP charged up again. Mordin and I did the same with our plasma blasts. Between our various tricks and the sheer amount of firepower we had at our disposal, we mopped things up pretty quickly. Even the FENRIS mechs who tagged along—hoping to use us as a chew toy, no doubt—weren't much of a threat.

_"Reinforce Outprocessing!"_ Kuril called out. _"Shepard is loose!"_

Hey! I'm a Spectre, not some animal running amok! "Time for us to get moving before we get pinned," I decided.

"Where are we going?" Jacob asked.

"Supermax wing," I replied. "Doesn't look like Kuril's handing over Jack, so we'll just have to help ourselves."

Just as we were about to leave, three more mercs showed up, with a pair of FENRIS mechs on their heels. "Boy, it sure would be nice if we had some grenades, don't you think?" Zaeed asked.

"Too bad someone ordered us to leave them behind," Kasumi chimed in.

"And you listened to me?" I snorted.

Kasumi and Zaeed shook their heads and patted their pockets. "Thought so. Get ready," I said, grabbing a weapon off my back. I motioned for everyone to wait for a moment, hoping to time things just right. Then I gave the signal.

Kasumi tossed a flashbang grenade to blind and deafen the mercs—a little trick she picked up from our fun heist on Bekenstein. While they were incapacitated, Miranda launched an EMP to knock out the lead merc's shields. Zaeed's inferno grenade burned right through the mechs' armour just as I pulled the trigger on my grenade launcher. For some odd reason, it was fair sailing after that.

Shaking my sore hand, I led the squad out of Outprocessing and down to the supermax wing, taking out three more mercs along the way.

"Shepard is on the loose!" a technician was screaming as we entered the wing. "Repeat: Shepard is on the loose! Get people down—urk!" That last part was cut short by my sniper rifle. I didn't have time to set up a proper headshot, so I focused on his chest. Centre of mass was a larger target, and could still cause a quick kill. And no, that had nothing to do with my irritation with the Blue Suns for confusing me with some disobedient mutt.

We cased the room to make sure it was clear. Standard practise and for good reason—there was still a FENRIS mech in the room. One blast of flame, one concussive round and one EMP later, it was scrap metal.

Miranda moved over to access the computer console. She looked over the controls for a minute before turning to me. "If we hack this control, it will release Jack from cryo... along with opening every other door in the cellblock."

"Hmm. Interconnected controls. Opening one opens them all. Chaos," Mordin said.

"It's the only way," Zaeed shrugged.

Glancing over the controls, I concurred. "Then I'm doing it. Be ready."

As soon as I entered the command, an alarm sounded. A robotic arm swivelled out towards the centre of the room below us. The movement activated not one, not two, but _three _YMIR-class heavy mechs, all of whom powered up and turned towards the arm, which had clamped onto something cylindrical and was turning it around. With a hiss of gas from various nozzles, the arm lifted up, carrying a cylindrical tank with it. A tank with...

...well. That was different.

"That's Jack?" Jacob asked.

Garrus scratched his head in confusion. "Isn't Jack a female name?"

"Jack is... small," Grunt pronounced. I was equally confused. Jack was a woman of average height, clamped to a metal stand by restraints around her neck and wrists. Her head was shaved bald and she was sporting a very colourful top paired with baggy pants. Taking a closer look, I realized she wasn't wearing a top—aside from some leather straps that barely covered enough to be considered decent, her entire upper body was covered in tattoos.

Suddenly, Jack's eyes popped open. She yanked one arm free of her restraints and started tugging at her collar restraint. Then she yanked her other arm free and redoubled her efforts, while the YMIR mechs started stomping towards her. With a cry, she snapped the last restraint and she dropped to her knees. She rubbed her head as if nursing a headache, then noticed the three mechs in front of her. Most people would be relatively worried.

Most people don't launch themselves towards the mechs, howling all the way.

As Jack charged, a crackling blue aura surged all around her. She gave the closest mech a devastating punch charged with biotic energy, sending it flying back into the wall. Up above, we could feel the floor shake from the impact. **(3)**

"Oh, I want to see this!" Grunt said happily. "Let's go!"

* * *

><p>We moved towards the door, which led down a ramp to the room that used to hold Jack. A computer automatically sounded an alarm. "Sounds like heavy fighting," Jacob said.<p>

The door opened into the cryo room. Smoke was everywhere, mostly from the three large piles of metal and plastic that used to be a trio of heavy mechs. A large hole was gaping in the wall, shards of metal bending outward into a corridor.

"Ya think?" I asked rhetorically. Picking up something on my sensors, I scanned one of the mechs. Its shield generators were intact enough to scan. Hopefully I'd be able to replicate it later.

"_All __guards: __restore __order!__" _Kuril snapped over the loudspeakers._ "__Lethal __force __is __authorized! __But __don__'__t __kill __Jack! __Techs: __lockdown! __Lockdown!__" _

We hopped through the hole and raced down the corridor. It was very hard to see anything, what with the emergency lights—a bunch of blinking red lights spaced way too far apart—being the only source of illumination. Almost missed the power cells and credits lying around. _"__Sectors __Seven, __Nine __and __Eleven __have __lost __life __support,__" _the computer politely told us. _"__No __survivors.__"_

We emerged on the second floor of a very large room. Bridges connected the two sides of the room. Above us, mercs were desperately firing at various prisoners on the ground floor, who had naturally scrounged up weapons and were having a heck of a good time. Metal plates were swinging up from the floor—some automatic protocol to provide shelter in the event of a prison riot, I guess. Red emergency lights and fires were blinking everywhere. Girders and other large debris were falling all around us.

"This girl is powerful," Garrus noted, "but she lacks subtlety."

Grunt had a different take: "She's blowing everything up. I like her!"

Of course he did.

"_All __prisoners: __return __to __your __cells __immediately,__"_ Kuril yelled, _"__or __I__'__ll __open __every __airlock __on __this __ship!__"_

Right. Because prisoners who've done the worst things imaginable before being captured and subjected to such delightful treatment will naturally comply with such a reasonable request.

I would have been happy to let the prisoners and mercs fight it out, and let us focus on any targets of opportunity, had I not looked ahead. Another YMIR mech was loose, stomping around. I quickly ran onto a nearby bridge, cloaked and sighted on the mech. This was why I preferred the life of a sniper: the chance to shoot things at range. Okay, so I didn't actually kill it, even though I scored a direct headshot. Still, anything to take its shields down a notch. Meanwhile, I could use my position to designate targets for my squad. Everyone who could fire an EMP started chipping away at the mech's shields; while everyone else lay down a withering hail of covering fire.

Thankfully, the bridge I was hiding on was remarkably sturdy, and had some nice metal plates clamped on the rail and the floor to hide behind. The mech kept trying to blast it apart, but the bridge refused to give way. While the mech was stubbornly trying to kill me, everyone else was free to take it apart one piece at a time.

How do I always manage to get myself into these situations?

By the time we finally blew up the mech, all the other mercs and prisoners were dead.

"_Warning: __power __plant __damage __has __led __to __overload,__"_ the computer happily chirped. _"__Core __systems __failure __imminent.__"_

Another synthesized voice came in, this time over the comm. _"__Shepard, __the __warden __has __locked __down __the __area __behind __you,__" _EDI said. _"You must find another exit route."_

Acknowledging her intel, I quickly swept the room for anything of value. There was an interesting looking shotgun next to one of the dead mercs. As I scanned it, I looked around him. It didn't take long to guess what had happened.

"The guard got swarmed by prisoners wielding improvised weapons. He never had a chance."

"Shows you what kind of people these prisoners are," Garrus said. "I don't agree with everything they do here, but it's in the galaxy's best interests to keep them locked away. This guard kept maniacs from hurting innocent people."

Mordin wasn't so sure. "Prisoners helpless. Guards had power. Perhaps abused it? Violence could be retribution."

"We don't have time to debate this," I said, automatically hacking a datapad for credits.

"Yeah, we have to find Jack," Grunt laughed gleefully. "I want to see how long she lasts."

Glad to see one of us was having fun. Miranda seemed to share my sentiments. "How long she lasts or how long the station stays together?" she asked.

I led the squad into a U-shaped corridor before Grunt could answer, automatically scooping up anything useful as I went.

"_Lockdown __in __Blocks __Four, __Seven __and __Eight!__"_ Kuril barked, just as we entered another large room. It was very similar to the one we had just left; only this one had more mercs and no prisoners. Since we were taking the lead, Team One found a good place to hide first. We lay down covering fire while Team Two found a little shelter of their own, thanks to another metal plate that swung into position.

"_The __hull __has __been __breached __in __Sectors __12, __14 __and __30,__"_ the computer said as we started taking out mercs one at a time. _"__No __survivors.__"_

EMP, plasma, gunfire, dead merc. EMP, plasma, gunfire, dead merc. EMP, plasma, gunfire, dead merc. Send Team Two down to the ground floor to face more mercs. EMP, plasma, gunfire, dead merc.

More mercs started pouring in from the far end as I led my team to join the party. We prepared ourselves for more of the same.

Then a YMIR mech—seriously, how many of those things did these guys have?—stood up and started stomping our way. At least, I'm sure it was stomping. Hard to tell over the din of gunfire.

I quickly fired off a couple headshots before ducking to avoid the return fire. "Team Two, keep the mercs busy; Team One tackle the mech!" I yelled. EMPs started crackling over the mech one by one. I lost sight of it for a moment as it started moving across a bridge. When I saw it again, its shields were gone.

Unfortunately, its armour was fully intact and it was perilously close to Team Two. The mech moved down a ramp to the ground level and started stomping towards them, launching a rocket in the process. The explosion knocked Zaeed over, his head hitting the floor with enough force to knock him out. Garrus motioned for everyone else to duck.

"OK, guys, we gotta draw that thing away from Team Two," I said. I quickly counted down from three and popped out, sending a bolt of plasma its way before firing another shot. Miranda was right on my heels with a biotic blast. Grunt and Kasumi settled for shooting it—well, Kasumi settled for shooting it. Grunt moved out into the open to shoot it, defiantly inviting any return fire.

As stupid as it sounded, it worked. The mech quickly focused on him, which gave Team Two to unleash a hail of fire. After a minute of sustained fire, the mech's armour cracked open and everyone started shorting out its system with EMPs. Grunt finished it off with a concussive round and a howl of laughter.

Now we could focus on the mercs again. Cloaking, I lined up a shot on a merc that was trying to creep over the bridge above us and took him down. The mercs sneaking behind him hastily retreated. I signalled for Team One to move up while I kept the mercs pinned with sniper fire. While they moved up on my right, I saw Team Two move beneath me to some cover closer to the mercs. Zaeed included—guess he'd recovered from his little concussion.

Kuril came back over the loudspeaker. "Find Jack!" he said. "Full alert! Find Jack!"

Nice to see Kuril had his priorities straight in the midst of his precious ship falling apart, I mused, cloaking again and trying to get a clean shot at the last pair of mercs. Nope, they were hiding. So I waited until my cloak wore off. As soon as it did, the mercs stood up. The rest of my squad was waiting for them.

After swiping everything that wasn't nailed down in the room and the adjoining corridor, we entered yet another room. Prisoners were running around getting killed left and right by Kuril. He was standing in the far left corner of the room, underneath a large dome-shaped shield. Adjusting his aim to shoot another prisoner in the back, he saw us.

"You're valuable, Shepard," he hissed at me, turning and firing a shot. He missed. "I could've sold you and lived like a king."

"You think I'm worth that much?" I laughed. "Ever hear a story called 'The Emperor's New Clothes'?"

"But you're too much trouble," Kuril continued, pretending he didn't hear me. Which was entirely possible, given all the noise from the guns and explosions. "At least I can recapture Jack."

"That's not happening," I called back. "You're a two-bit slave trader and I'm taking you down."

"I do the hard things civil governments are unwilling to!" he cried out. "This is for the good of the galaxy!"

As the two teams found their positions, I surveyed the room. Small and square shaped, with paths running along the sides of the wall and one bridge extending from our end to the other. Lots of metal plates for us and the mercs to hide behind. And three tall pillars with spheres on the end, each sending a stream of energy to the dome Kuril was hiding under. Three guesses that they were powering some kind of additional shield for the two-bit slave trader.

I got Miranda's attention and pointed out the generators. She nodded, leaned out and sent an EMP at one of them. Sure enough, the generator shut down, the stream of energy flowing from it ceased, and Kuril's dome shield flickered. One down, two to go. For the good of the galaxy and all that.

Unfortunately, one of the generators was on the other side of the bridge, hidden from our position by a metal plate. The other generator was in the far right corner of the room, blocked by a bunch of crates. I quickly ran through my options and cursed. No easy way around it. "Everyone keep firing," I ordered. "I'll take out the generators."

Cloaking, I ran towards the generator on the far right. My cloak lasted long enough for me to get within range and fire a shot from my sniper rifle. As the generator shut down, I ducked and waited for my cloak to recharge, before cloaking again and sprinting back to the squad. Noting that I still had a second or two on the clock, I darted for the bridge. Stupid move—I made it, but I lost my shields in the process. I probably should have waited until my shields recharged before cloaking. Naturally I cloaked first so I could take out the other generator.

By then, the squad had taken out several mercs. There were still plenty for me, mind you. I started looking around for a target...

...just in time to see two mercs move through the door we had just used. I was the only one who saw them.

"Behind you!" I yelled, cloaking and firing a shot. Knowing that shouting like that would throw my aim off, I went for a chest shot. Didn't quite kill the merc, but it knocked him back for a bit. More importantly, it bought enough time for the squad to turn around and see them. I'm pretty sure one of the mercs gulped before three EMPs, a plasma blast, two concussive rounds and a round of gunfire ripped them to shreds.

There was only one more merc to deal with. I had to let the squad handle it—my shields were gone and I had taken several serious hits. If I didn't wait for the medical systems to kick in, I'd be toast. So I let the squad take care of him, all the while mentally urging my shields to hurry up and regenerate. Didn't help, of course, but it made me feel better.

Now Kuril had our undivided attention. Using my HUD, I signalled for Team One to occupy him while Team Two moved up the right. Meanwhile, I snuck across the bridge and headed for him along the left, diving behind a metal plate that obligingly lifted up into position as I approached.

Three EMPs were all that were needed to take out his shields, courtesy of Miranda, Garrus and Kasumi. Mordin and I took turns melting his armour with our plasma bolts. Jacob lifted him up in the air with his biotics so Zaeed and Grunt could send twin concussive rounds into his gut.

And me? I delivered the coup de grâce, courtesy of a sniper round to the head.

Did you really have to ask?

* * *

><p>We heard some running above us, like feet pounding on metal, and looked up just in time to see Jack run down one of the cylindrical corridors above us. Consulting my HUD, I quickly determined the fastest way up there and headed off in hot pursuit.<p>

The squad arrived in time to see her face off against two guards. "Stop!" one of them cried out.

In response, Jack gripped one of them with her biotics, lifted himup into the air and hurled him into the glass with enough force to make it crack. As he slumped to the ground, she did the same thing with the other guard. Then she looked around for another target.

This corridor had a clear view of the area outside the station. Something out there caught her eye. "Cerberus," she spat.

I couldn't see what had provoked that response, but it sure made her mad. Or madder. Trembling in rage, she started pacing back and forth, sputtering out cries of rage and moving her hands like she wanted to strangle someone. In fact, she was so occupied; she didn't see the merc sneak up on her. Not until I shot him with my pistol.

"What the hell do you want?" she snapped.

"Hey, a little gratitude here," I protested. "I just saved your ass."

"He was already dead," she scowled. "He just didn't know it. Now, what the hell do you want?"

"You were in a bad situation," I replied. "I thought I'd get you out of it."

"Shit, you sound like a pussy," she sneered.

Oh yeah. TIMmy picked a real charmer.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she continued. "You're Cerberus."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

She snorted and pointed outside. Following her finger, I saw the Normandy.

With a big honking Cerberus symbol on her bow.

I looked behind me towards Miranda and Jacob. "She's got a point," I told them. "You guys might want to re-think the whole advertising thing." **(4)** Turning back towards Jack, I asked "Why does it matter if I'm with Cerberus, anyway?"

"With them, for them—I don't care," she spat. "They've been on my ass for years. Anytime I get free, they put a huge bounty on me. That's why Warden Kuril figured he'd struck gold when he caught me."

"She's destroyed Cerberus property and killed Cerberus personnel," Miranda clarified. "Hence the bounty."

"You think you're gonna put me back on ice?" Jack hissed. "You'll die first."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I doubt that very much."

"I'm not Cerberus," I interrupted. "I'm just working with them for now."

"You show up in a Cerberus frigate to take me away somewhere. You think I'm stupid?"

Okay, now probably wasn't the best time to piss her off—even more—but I couldn't resist the line she'd just handed me. "Um... yes?"

"What?"

"Look: this ship is going down in flames. I've got the only way out. I'm offering to take you with me. _And __you__'__re __arguing_. What did you expect?"

"We could just knock her out and take her," Zaeed growled.

"Shoot her and patch her up on the ship," Grunt agreed happily.

"You'll have to kill me," Jack said coldly.

Hoo boy. "We're not going to attack her," I sighed.

"You're sure?" Miranda asked with a little too much disappointment for my liking.

"Yes."

Jack smiled coldly. "Good move. Look, you want me to come with you? Make it worth my while."

"Join my squad and I'll do what I can for you," I replied.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Fine, let's go for something more specific," I said. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Her eyes narrowed. "I bet your ship's got lots of Cerberus databases. You want me on your team? Let me look at those files. See what Cerberus has got on me."

"I'll give you full access," I agreed.

"Shepard, you're not authorized to do that!" Miranda protested.

"Says who?"

"Cerberus Regulation 38—"

"Am I the commanding officer of this mission?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then I have the authority to make those kinds of decisions."

"But..."

"Oh, it upsets the cheerleader," Jack said mockingly. "Even better. You better be straight up with me."

I just nodded.

"So why the hell are we standing here?" she asked.

"Let's go," I said. Before the ship falls apart, I silently added. **(5)**

* * *

><p>Miranda arranged a quick debrief once we got back to the Normandy. Somehow, I had a feeling it had less to do with formally welcoming Jack onboard and more to do with getting the last word in. I met Miranda outside the comm room. "Jacob and Garrus already escorted Jack inside," she said when I arrived.<p>

"Great," I nodded. "Before we join them, though, I thought we could have a little talk."

"Like the ones we always have when you drop by my office? Two or three times a day?"

"Most of those talks don't involve the tension I picked up between you and Jack," I replied.

"I wouldn't call it tension," Miranda sniffed. "More like... disapproval."

"Not with her biotics," I said, pretending to play dumb. "If Purgatory's crippled remains are any indication, I think she's got that in spades."

Miranda frowned at me. Maybe she was annoyed that I would dare to admire another human's biotic prowess or something. "Without discipline and respect for authority, that power is useless," she replied. "Or worse: dangerous. She could prove to be a liability."

"Maybe, maybe not," I shrugged. "Still, your boss—"

"_Our _boss."

"Your boss headhunted her," I continued as if I hadn't been interrupted. "For her talents rather than her people skills, but he picked her nonetheless. I say give her a chance. She might surprise you."

"Or she might not," Miranda countered. "She's a loose cannon."

"I've worked with people who didn't necessarily toe the line before," I reminded her. "I still am."

"Have any of the people you worked with been this borderline-insubordinate?" Miranda asked.

"Well there was a krogan battlemaster I used to hang out with," I said. "We had the most stimulating conversations."

"I'm sure," Miranda shook her head. "Well, maybe it won't be a complete disaster. As long as we can point her in the right direction before setting her loose."

Not exactly what I was hoping to hear. "She's a member of this squad and this crew, not an attack dog who's being let off the leash. Even if her leather... straps and tattoos suggest otherwise. Okay?"

Miranda glared at me. "Fine," she spat out after a moment.

"So can you work with her?" I pressed.

"As long as you put her on Team Two, I can."

Never thought I'd ever hear Miranda grumble before. Still, this would probably be the best I'd ever get. "It's a start," I conceded. "Just... let me do the talking? And play nice."

"Of course."

With that, Miranda and I entered the comm room. Garrus, Jacob and Jack turned to look at us. "Welcome to the Normandy, Jack," Miranda said before I could open my mouth. "I'm Miranda; Shepard's second-in-command. On this ship, we follow orders."

Yes. Establish the proper chain-of-command. Because if this mission showed anything, it was that Jack respected authority. And Miranda had the same definition of playing nice as the rest of us. I wasn't the only one who felt that way:

Jacob's shoulders slumped.

Garrus shook his head.

Jack gave Miranda the finger. "Tell the Cerberus cheerleader to back off, Shepard. I'm here because of our deal."

"Miranda will grant you access to the databases," I said. "Let me know what you find."

"Hear that, precious," Jack cooed. "We're gonna be friends. You, me and every embarrassing little secret." She tilted her head towards me. "I'll be reading down in the hold," she told me, "or somewhere near the bottom. I don't like a lot of thorough traffic."

Without waiting to be dismissed—as if she'd do so anyway—she headed for the door. "Keep your people off me," she said over her shoulder. "Better that way."

Miranda looked at me, then shook her head and left the room.

"Well, that went well," I said cheerfully.

Jacob and Garrus looked at me doubtfully. Can't imagine why.

The three of us chatted about how the Normandy and her crew were doing for a few minutes before I let them go. When I emerged from the comm room, Kelly told me that TIMmy wanted to talk to me. Naturally I ignored him and researched some upgrades instead. Then I started making my rounds and talking to everybody. Even Miranda, though that conversation involved the usual "There's a lot of work to do" and a nod towards a datapad propped on the edge of the desk. I took that datapad with me and resumed my rounds. Eventually I made my way to Jack. As she said, she made a home in the hold below Engineering. Very dark. Very moody. Like her.

"Tell me about you, Jack," I said, handing her the datapad.

"I'm still finding out about me," she shrugged. "This might help," she added, taking the datapad from my hand. "Thanks for letting me look at those files.

"If they're helping you, that's good enough for me," I replied.

She shot me a sharp look. "Don't be my buddy. You need me to kill for you. I need you for these files. Let's leave it there. Your friends at Cerberus are into some nasty things. I'm gonna find something I can use. I just know it."

"What if the answers aren't what you expect?" I asked.

"I'm not looking for answers. I'm looking for names, dates, places."

"And when you find what you're looking for?"

"I go hunting," Jack scowled. "Anyone who's screwed with me pays. Their associates pay. Their friends pay. The galaxy's gonna be a lot emptier when I'm done."

Oh boy. As if I needed any more evidence that Jack had issues. "I didn't spring you from jail just so you could run off on a killing spree," I frowned.

"I'm here for your mission," Jack said coolly. "After that, what I do is my business."

"What's your history with Cerberus," I asked, trying to distract her before she vented her 'business' on my spleen.

"They raised me in a research facility," she shrugged. "I escaped when I was a kid. Been on the run ever since." She got up and started to walk around. "And they've been chasing me ever since.

She pulled out a pistol. I wasn't sure whether she'd snuck it onboard from the Purgatory or swiped it out of the armoury. "But soon I'm going to chase them," she hissed.

"You think about this a lot, don't you?"

"I go to sleep with this," she said calmly, staring at her pistol. "I wake up with it. Everyone I kill, I pretend it's the ones that did this to me."

Okay. Crazy person getting crazier. Time to change the topic. "You don't have to live in this pit, you know."

"It's dark, quiet and hard to find. That spells safety to me."

She abruptly strode out of the darkness, vaulted over a pipe and landed in a crouch on a nearby table. Being the manly man that I was, I only jumped a millimetre off the deck. "You know, this ship is a powerhouse," she purred. "You could go pirate, live like a king. I could help. Might be nice to have a cozy little base to hang out in while I cross people off my kill list."

"We have to stop the Collectors," I told her. "I don't have time for piracy."

"When this is done, we'll either be dead or out here, in space," Jack pointed out. "With this ship."

She jumped off the table. "Think about it: lots of creds. Freedom to go wherever you want. And all the mayhem and killing I could want."

"What is it about killing that fascinates you so much?" I asked.

"I figure every time someone dies and it's not me, my chances of survival go up," she replied frankly. "Simple."

And my chances of survival would go up the sooner I got out of here. "I should go."

"Yep."

* * *

><p>"The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the debriefing room, Commander," Kelly told me when I got back to the command deck.<p>

"Yeah, that's nice," I said absently, moving to the galaxy map to plot my next course. This time, however, the map didn't light up. "Um... EDI, I think the galaxy map is broken."

"_The __galaxy __map __is __fully __operational,__"_ EDI corrected. _"__The __Illusive __Man __desires __a __conversation __with __you __and __has __activated __override __protocols __to __prevent __you __from __taking __any __further __action __without speaking with him first.__"_

Wow. Control freak, much?

I thought about stalling for time. Maybe harass the crew again. Sure that might be petty. But hey, petty and I are old friends. Still, I wound up going to the comm room. Maybe he'd have some useful intel.

Like everything else on this ship, the comm room had some pretty nifty features. Aside from the usual access to the galactic FTL comm network, it was equipped with a quantum entanglement communicator to allow direct two-way real-time communication with TIMmy. EDI explained it worked by creating two subatomic particles that were 'entangled.' One was installed on the Normandy, the other at TIMmy's office. When one particle entered a certain quantum state, the other particle would do the exact opposite, establishing a link that allowed for lag-free transmission of data through 'quantum bits.' This would allow us to contact TIMmy even when the regular ol' comm network was on the fritz. I took its word for it, as that kind of stuff is way above me. All I knew was it worked. **(6)**

"Shepard, I think we have them!" TIMmy told me when the link was established, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. "Horizon—one of our colonies in the Terminus Systems—just went silent. **(7)** If it isn't under attack, it soon will be. Has Mordin delivered the countermeasure for the seeker swarms?"

I had no clue. Last time I talked to him, he was busy running a couple statistical analyses, creating a couple seekers for tests and updating crew dental records. Despite all that multi-tasking, he still had enough time to inform me that Cerberus personnel had cyanide capsules placed in their molars, reject that measure as primitive and give me his opinion that ocular nerve flashbangs would be better and harder to disarm. "Not yet," was all I said.

"Let's hope he works well under pressure. There's something else you should know."

Don't tell me. Let me guess. Something like 'Shepard—I am your father.'

"One of your former crew, Kaidan Alenko—he's stationed on Horizon."

Or that. "Last I knew, Kaidan was Alliance. Why is he out in the Terminus Systems?"

"Officially, it's an outreach program to improve Alliance relations with the colonies. But they're up to something. And if they sent Commander Alenko, it must be big. Perhaps you should take it up with him."

This was all a bit too convenient for me. TIMmy locks down the Normandy until I deigned to chat with him, then he revealed that he knows where the Collectors are going next. And they just happened to pick the place that Kaidan was visiting? I said as much. Well, I said the last part anyway.

"It shouldn't be a surprise the Collectors are interested in you. Especially if they're working for the Reapers. They might be going after him to get to you."

"We should send a message to the Citadel," I suggested. "The Alliance or the Council can give us reinforcements."

"Not until you investigate," TIMmy shook his head. "I don't want them getting in our way."

Yeah, 'cause official governments had such an annoying tendency of doing that... wait, they did, didn't they? Damn it, I better not be going soft. Or native.

"Once you have the situation under control, I'll send the message personally," TIMmy promised.

Sure he would.

"Send the coordinates," I said instead. "We'll head straight there."

TIMmy nodded. Naturally he couldn't let it go without having the final word: "This is the most warning we've ever had, Shepard. Good luck."

I left the comm room and headed for the tech lab. "Joker—set a course for Horizon," I ordered. "I've got to go see the professor."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

* * *

><p>Mordin had actually done it.<p>

Well, he did have a countermeasure, but I didn't find that out at first. I was actually talking about the seeker. He had actually built... or grown... or both—anyway, he had a live and operational seeker up and running. No, he didn't have it buzzing around the tech lab like some idiot. It was safely locked up in the anoxic chamber. Good thing too, it kept insisting on trying to sting us. Either that, or it had a really bad sense of direction. Stupid bug kept running into the walls.

I filled Mordin in on TIMmy's conversation. "Please tell me you have something."

Mordin smiled. "Yes."

"Gee, could you be a little more specific?" I asked plaintively.

"Yes. Have something."

I glared at him.

He chuckled, then pulled up a schematic. As he tapped madly away, he started explaining what this countermeasure was and how it would prevent our inglorious demise or capture.

Probably.

* * *

><p><em>(1): I am not surprised that Shepard was so... overwhelmed by the lengths Cerberus went to revive him. Frankly, I am amazed he kept his good humour and sanity in the face of these revelations.<em>

_(2): Since the Unification War, turians usually sport facial tattoos that signify their colony of origin. This custom is so prevalent, the term 'barefaced' has become a derogatory term to describe one who cannot be trusted... or politicians._

_(3): If I didn't know Shepard better, I would have suspected him of exaggerating events. _

_(4): Technically, the elongated hexagonal symbol was the logo of Cord-Hislop Aerospace, a front for Cerberus. However, it wasn't uncommon for people to recognize the symbol for what it truly represented, particularly in the Terminus Systems. _

_(5): Jack caused a catastrophic amount of damage as she tore through Purgatory, enough that it was literally falling apart by the end. After the Normandy left, the Council sent rescue ships to save any guards or prisoners that survived Purgatory's demise via escape pods. _

_(6): Despite its obvious advantages, such technology would only work from point-to-point via a single pair, which cost as much as a single comm relay. To set up enough pairs of particles to cover Citadel space would bankrupt the entire galactic community. _

_(7): By 'our,' The Illusive Man referred to humanity, not Cerberus. _Opinion may vary as to whether he saw any distinction between the two.__


	14. First Contact with Enemies and Friends

**Chapter 12: First Contact with Enemies and Friends**

I love new tech. I hate prototypes. And no, that's not a contradiction.

New tech means new toys. Or tools. Sometimes that's not a good thing. New tech that has been rushed out before the wrinkles are ironed out can cause more problems than they solve. New tech that's sensitive and finicky enough to shut down if you look at it funny is more a hindrance than a help. New tech that no one uses because it's ridiculously complicated winds up being nothing more than an expensive paperweight.

But usually new tech is the equivalent of an ace up the proverbial sleeve. It could be something as simple as an improvement on an earlier model. Or something that makes such a quantum leap beyond the current tech, it changes the game entirely. Point is, it gives whoever possesses it an advantage. On a tactical level, it gives you a tool that the enemy isn't familiar with and thus can't prepare for. On a grander scale, it represents change. Improvement. Progress. Without new tech, we'd be trying to fight off turians and krogan and worse with clubs, rock and equally crude language.

Unfortunately, you can't get new tech without prototypes. Prototypes which usually haven't had all the wrinkles ironed out. Prototypes which are more likely to be too sensitive and finicky. Prototypes which are more likely to be ridiculously complicated. While there's no way to resolve those problems without actually field-testing those prototypes, there's no denying that they might act up at the worst possible time—and that's for average schmucks with average luck. With _my _luck, it's not so much a question of 'might' as it is 'when.' That goes double when you're lugging around more than one prototype.

For starters, TIMmy had delivered a shipment of weapons to us. New heavy pistols, new assault rifles—well, technically they were heavy assault rifles that packed a punch, even if they were made way back when—and some sort of plasma shotgun retrieved from the geth. Having the option of playing around with new toys and upgrades is great, don't get me wrong. The fact that we got them just before our latest mission was... less than ideal, to say the least.

The other prototype was the countermeasure against the seeker swarms. The only test we had time to do before hitting Horizon was crowding into Mordin's lab and releasing the seeker he'd constructed. Which wasn't exactly a resounding success. First, while the seeker ignored us, it did make a bee-line (no pun intended) for the door. The one we'd forgotten to lock. If it had gotten out, it would have started attacking everyone in the Combat Information Centre (thankfully, the seeker was too small to activate the motion-sensitive door-release). Second, that was one lone seeker. There were tons of them buzzing around on Horizon. We had no way of knowing for sure that Mordin's countermeasure would work in the field.

That didn't stop me from asking Mordin anyway. "Mordin, you sure these armour upgrades will protect us from the seeker swarms?" I asked.

Mordin's reply wasn't exactly reassuring. "Certainty impossible. But in limited numbers, should confuse detection, make us invisible to swarms. In theory."

"In theory?" Miranda echoed.

"Experimental technology. Only test is contact with seeker swarms. Hence initial test with seeker on Normandy. Have to test them in person to know for sure," Mordin replied brightly. "If successful, seeker swarms will ignore us. If unsuccessful, will be paralyzed. And subsequently captured. Should be exciting. Look forward to seeing if we survive."

Oh I felt _so_ much better.

We went around a rocky outcrop and saw a bunch of buildings, with a small artificial courtyard full of debris in the middle. More seekers buzzing overhead. They seemed to be ignoring us so far. Guess Mordin's countermeasure was working. Still, I kept a paranoid eye on them.

It was a good thing I was so paranoid. Otherwise, I might have missed the Collectors flying down towards us. Up until now, I didn't realize that Collectors could fly. They actually had wings on their backs, like a bunch of bipedal mutant insects, which they used to swoop down into the courtyard. Team One—me, Miranda, Grunt and Kasumi—took cover behind a building to the left while Team Two—Garrus, Jacob, Jack, Zaeed and Mordin found a hiding spot to the right.

Despite the mottled brown carapace that covered each Collector, it didn't seem to provide any more protection than a standard hardsuit. In fact, they seemed to rely on biotic barriers for protection rather than shields or armour, according to what my sensors were telling me. That meant EMPs wouldn't work. Biotic tricks would, however. So would high-yield concussive rounds—guess organics had trouble concentrating on keeping their barriers up when something slammed against them at high velocity. **(1)** Which reminded me...

...cloaking, I ran out and sighted down on one of the Collectors. I focused between its four yellow eyes, breathed out and fired. Perfect headshot!

As we continued, I noticed something else. Some of the Collectors seemed to be able to generate some kind of protective shield in front of them. Some yellow, two-dimensional half-circle with a hexagonal pattern over it. Quite effective at guarding it until it could restore its barriers. I passed my observations to my squad between plasma bolts, as well as the conclusion that these 'Guardians' would have to be taken down as soon, and we quickly started to gain the upper hand. The Collectors clearly noted this, judging by the way their communication—some sort of guttural chittering—increased dramatically.

And that was the other thing. The Collectors were more, well, more alien than any other non-human I'd encountered. Yes, they had two legs, two arms and a roughly symmetrical body, but their differences made them so much more unfathomable than turians or batarians. Their unintelligible—by my ears, anyway—speech didn't help matters. At least with mercs or aliens you can sort of understand, thanks to the glories of translation programs. With the Collectors, there was no way of understanding them. They just seemed so... _other_.

While I was pondering that, the squad was taking up the slack and eliminating Collectors. After a while, there was only one left. None of us could see it, though. I motioned for everybody to stay put while I scouted ahead. Didn't take long to see it, hiding behind some crates. Before it could do anything, I cloaked and sniped it in the head.

After pausing long enough to scrounge up any clips or loot, we moved ahead. We didn't bump into anyone. At all. No one was out running errands. Clocking in or clocking out after a day's work. Wondering who the heck these mysterious armed guys and gals were. Greeting us as we entered one empty building after another. We didn't see any sign of life except those damned seeker swarms. The only thing that made it bearable was the sun. Otherwise, it was just really creepy. Creepier than it should have been. For me, that is, since I'd already experienced this at Freedom's Progress. Then again, it was too late for Freedom's Progress. There was still a chance to change things here. To thwart the Big Bad. To make a difference. No pressure.

"_Commande...__ –__tting __all __kinds... __ference,__"_ Joker suddenly broke in over the comm. I could barely make him out over all the static. _"__We __can__'__t __maintain...__"_

That was all we heard before the comm cut out completely.

"The Collectors are disrupting communications," Miranda confirmed, consulting her sensors. "Thankfully, short-range communications are still operational."

"We're on our own now," I concluded. "Eyes open and ears sharp, everyone."

We entered another courtyard a minute later, just in time to see a Collector pass behind a building. It was escorting a floating coffin-shaped pod, no doubt holding some paralyzed civvie. I tried to fire a headshot to drop it so we could retrieve the pod and rescue the captive inside.

It didn't work. The Collector didn't die, but I did draw its attention. As it advanced towards me, the pod continued on its way, thanks to some pre-programmed protocol or remote control. Miranda and Garrus popped its barrier like a bubble, and I prepared to follow suit with a fireball. Just as I was launching the plasma, though, the Collector raised its weapon and fired at me.

To my astonishment, the weapon fired some sort of yellow particle beam, lancing out at me with a harsh whine. The beam hit me and quickly ate through my shields. As I ran, the Collector tried to follow me. I could feel its weapon hitting my back, but it didn't actually penetrate my hardsuit for some reason.

Then an alert popped up on my HUD. **Grenade launcher overheating. Detonation imminent.**

Aw, crap.

I quickly dropped my sniper rifle, took out my grenade launcher and ejected its power cells. Having removed the ammo, I blindly tossed it at the Collector who had been dogging me earlier. Judging by the explosion and the sudden shriek I heard—which was quickly cut off—I got the sucker.

At that moment, I felt a tingling on the back of my neck. Groaning, I looked around for the bad guys who had triggered my paranoia. They obligingly showed up a second later.

Husks.

Yep, those glowing circuitry-laden zombies with a penchant for charging towards you, zapping you with some kind of internally-generated EMP and clawing you to bits. The first two made a bee-line for the closest squadmate.

That was Grunt, who had already seen them coming and fired off a round from his shotgun. It made a good dent in whatever armour was protecting one of the husks, but they kept going. Mordin managed to burn the armour off of both of them, but by then they were in combat. Oddly enough, they didn't try generating any EMPs. They just clawed at him. Grunt cocked his head curiously, casually taking their punishment while returning the favour with gunfire and the odd headbutt. Checking my omni-tool, I saw that enough plasma had been generated, so I set the husks ablaze. Grunt kicked them over, where they continued to burn on the ground. Looking back at me, he nodded his thanks, apparently none the worse for wear.

A bright flash exploded in the distance, courtesy of Kasumi and her flashbang grenades. The Collectors who had the poor luck to be at ground zero staggered back, shaking their heads vigorously. Rather than wait until their eyesight had been restored, Team Two quickly knocked them on their butts with some concussive rounds, set them on fire and then finished them off with bullets. Meanwhile, my team entertained ourselves with killing another husk.

We quickly scrounged for supplies. It was that process of looking and swiping that led us to a dead husk hiding behind a building.

Grunt poked it with his shotgun. "Sort of looks human," he offered. "This one of the colonists?"

"Those things look like the husks used by the geth on Eden Prime," Jacob said, reminding me that he was stationed there when Saren hit the colony two years ago.

Garrus shook his head. "But the geth impaled their victims on giant spikes to turn them into husks. But we haven't seen the geth _or _the spikes."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Miranda frowned. "The geth got that technology from Sovereign."

"They did?" I asked. "You sure?"

"Cerberus did a thorough analysis after your... first encounter with the Collectors," she explained to me. "We found certain energy signatures and chemical markers that had only been recorded during our... studies of the husks. Granted, that might have indicated that either the Collectors or the geth developed the technology to create husks. Furthermore, one of our cells also discovered a series of geth data logs. The logs indicated that the knowledge of how to create husks was sudden, starting shortly before your encounter on Eden Prime. The logs was no indication of experimentation, research or development. Nothing that would indicate a point of origin. One day, the geth had no idea of how to create husks, or any reference to husks at all. The next, there was a fully thought-out process on geth creation, with frequent references to Sovereign.

Mordin nodded. "Would have to analyze data myself to verify. Still, summary _does_ suggest husk technology came from Reapers, not geth. If so, presence of husks here indicates collaboration between Collectors and Reapers."

"We haven't seen any Dragon's Teeth or any other tech that looks out of place on a human colony. Which suggests the Collectors must have already had the husks and brought them here," Miranda deduced. "If so, did the Collectors attack Horizon—and the other human colonies—simply for... for raw material to create more husks? Or do they want them for something else?"

"My bet's on the latter," I guessed. "Judging by their reputation, the Collectors must be experimenting on the colonists. "The question is, what are they up to?"

"Fascinating question. Answer... probably unpleasant," Mordin offered.

"The only way to find out is to stop them," Miranda said.

I crouched down and took a good look at them. "They don't look like the same guys I fought on Eden Prime," I frowned. "Or at any time during my hunt for Saren. They almost look more advanced. Evolved."

"Maybe the Reapers only gave Saren and the geth the blueprints to create primitive husks," Kasumi suggested. "I mean, why bring an omni-tool if a lock pick will suffice? The Reapers could have been holding the more advanced models in reserve. Or maybe they started developing better husks once they found out the old ones weren't up to snuff."

"Doesn't matter. They still die when you shoot 'em," Zaeed drawled, slamming another thermal clip in his assault rifle.

"True. And we're not going to let them or the Collectors get away with more victims," I said, standing up. "Let's move out."

* * *

><p>The sight of the ghost town—colony, whatever—didn't get any easier. Not for me. Not for anybody else.<p>

"Everyone's... gone," Kasumi whispered.

"Just like Freedom's Progress," Jacob agreed.

"No signs of resistance," Garrus said grimly. "It must have happened quickly, before anyone could prepare a defence of some kind."

"Speaking of resistance," I warned. "We've got company." I raised my sniper rifle, aimed at a Collector and fired. My shot smashed through its barrier and severely injured it. Grunt happily finished it off. Noting that Garrus had already found shelter along with his team, I motioned that we'd head through one of the buildings to try and flank them. He nodded his understanding and ordered his team to lay down covering fire.

I quickly moved through the building, Team One hot on my heels. For once, I didn't bother to loot anything, instead mentally noting anything of interest. When we popped out the other side, my HUD indicated that there were only three threats left. Team Two must have done an exceptionally good job. Noting a possible target, I zoomed in with my sniper rifle.

It wasn't a Collector. It was one of the colonists. Frozen, with some kind of orange-yellow energy field flickering over him. Black smoke seemed to billow from him, as if he was on fire. His hands were up as if he had been trying to wave something off. His mouth gaping wide open in a helpless cry, eyes filled with desperation.

I saw two targets to our left, both occupied with Team One. I selected one target for me and Miranda; the other for everyone else. On the count of three, we opened fire on their rear. They never stood a chance.

Staying at our position, we monitored for any approaching Collectors while Team Two moved up. Then we leapfrogged ahead. Naturally, two more Collectors showed up. Thankfully, they were eliminated quickly.

Doubling back just long enough to bypass a couple safes and grab some creds, I rejoined the others, who had gathered around another frozen civvie.

"Definitely some sort of stasis field," Miranda confirmed. I remembered her speculating that the seeker swarms incapacitated their victims either by nerve toxin or stasis field. Looked like it was the latter.

"Victim appears conscious," Mordin observed. "Fully aware. Trapped in stasis. Fascinating."

Somehow, I managed to repress a shudder. In some ways, this was worse than a ghost colony. At least, the traditional definition of a ghost colony, which implied that no one was there. But now we knew that there were people here. People who had been paralyzed against their will. They couldn't speak. They couldn't touch anything. They were trapped within their bodies, helpless to resist or intervene. All they could do was watch what was happening around them with no ability whatsoever to affect things. Watch with looks of horror in their eyes. Or a silent plea for help. They were ghosts in every way that mattered, doomed to haunt the colony until the Collectors picked them up. "It isn't fascinating," I said at last. "It's hell. I don't care if it just happened or if it happened an hour ago. From their standpoint, it's been an eternity. Let's make sure they don't stay trapped like that any longer than they have t—ooh, what's that?"

My musings had been interrupted by the sight of the Collector lying face down on a path below us, between the building we were in and an adjacent one. Or rather, it had been interrupted by the sight of the exotic weapon next to it, similar to the particle beam weapon another Collector had fired at me earlier.

Making sure no one was in the neighbourhood, I crept out and scooped it up. It had several overlapping grey plates that lay like organic protrusions over the mechanical structure of a rifle. The triggering mechanism was situated about a third of the way from the butt of the rifle. Curious, I pointed it at a crate and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Maybe it was busted. I fiddled with it and one of the plates retracted, exposing a small cavity. Some kind of ammo slot. I tried putting a thermal clip in, but it was too small. Power cells, maybe? I pulled a couple out, thanking my foresight for retrieving them before my grenade launcher went boom, and pushed them into the cavity. The click I heard, along with the humming sound that came from this new weapon, told me I had succeeded. Aiming again, I saw a stream of yellow energy shoot out from the barrel, carving right through the crate.

Point-and-click. Didn't seem finicky or complicated. This is what I was talking about when I said I loved new tech. New in the sense that the Collectors wouldn't expect us to turn it against them, anyway. "I'll take it," I decided, inserting the rest of my power cells.

"Commander," Garrus called out, a tense undertone to his otherwise calm voice. "Targets inbound to our position."

More Collectors. We quickly took cover and braced ourselves for another assault. Most of them found cover of their own. All but one. That one looked around, assessing all of us.

It focused on me.

I suddenly felt the back of my neck tingling again.

Aw, crap.

"I am assuming direct control," it uttered in a deep, booming voice.

That did not sound good.

It suddenly rose into the air. I thought it was flying away at first, before realizing that its wings weren't buzzing. Instead, it appeared to be levitating. As I watched, its carapace seemed to crack open, revealing orange-yellow lines underneath that glowed like lava. Those lines seemed to erupt or ignite, blazing like a fire.

That did not look good.

The Collector landed on its feet. Flames seemed to burn from those glowing lines, as if something inside had ignited and its carapace was all keeping that energy from consuming it. Hunching over, it gathered some of that energy into a small ball—reminiscent of how some biotics focused mass effect fields—and hurled it from its hands. Now I was mostly in cover so the ball only glanced my shoulder. But that was enough to severely damage my shields and send me flying back a couple metres.

That certainly did not _feel _good.

"I am the harbinger of your perfection," the glowing Collector said.

All right, I decided grimly. Enough gawking. Time to kill this sucker. I signalled the squad to level everything they had at it. After a minute of biotic onslaught and a nice little sniper round, we managed to take down the barriers protecting this 'Harbinger.' My sensors noticed that whatever changes had occurred included altering its carapace, which was now registering more like some sort of organic armour.

Mordin and I sent twin bolts of plasma at the guy. We cheered as the sucker burned to cinders. Now time to deal with the other Collectors. Garrus was already directing his team to work on one of the Collectors, so I focused Team One's fire on another. My team had almost finished off 'our' guy when...

"Assuming direct control."

Aw, crap.

Yep. You guessed it. The guy lifted up in the air and started glowing. Before it could do any funny business, Miranda sent a biotic blast at its newly reformed barriers while I cloaked and gave the sucker a headshot.

It suddenly occurred to me that this Harbinger was glowing the same way my implants were glowing when I first woke up, before my skin gradually healed over them. Or the way Saren had glowed when Sovereign had kicked his implants into overdrive and reanimated his corpse in a last-ditch attempt to take us down. Did that mean the Collectors were all implanted as well? That would explain how Harbinger could trigger the same reaction each time it was 'possessing' them. **(2)** I quickly reminded myself that this was hardly the time or place for such analysis.

"Listen up, everyone," I said over the comm. "This 'Harbinger' guy seems to like possessing or upgrading weakened Collectors but, for whatever reason, can only do so one at a time. Team One will tackle Harbinger. Team Two start picking off any other Collectors. Once Harbinger's down—"

Harbinger's barriers were down, so I sent some plasma fire its way before finishing "—resume firing on the Collectors, and make _damn _sure your target's dead."

With these revised tactics, we ignored Harbinger, unless we had a perfect opportunity to deal some damage, and focused on taking out the other Collectors. As I'd determined earlier, the fewer of them left alive, the fewer 'vessels' Harbinger could use. Before you could say "Where's the flyswatter," the Collectors were all dead. Then we took care of Lava Boy—Jack delivered the coup de grâce with an explosive burst of biotics.

Naturally, reinforcements arrived a minute later.

Slowly but surely, we took them out. My shields took quite a few hits, as I was trying to ensure that the teams were focusing on one Collector at a time, and not let any weakened ones last long enough for Harbinger to pop up again. As a result, I exposed myself more often than not. When the last one went down for good, I breathed a sigh of relief and stood up.

Then I winced and rolled my shoulders. Apparently I had been so freaked out by these guys, I had been clenching my muscles throughout the entire fight. Boy, were they sore.

Now it was time to indulge in my favourite activity: scrounging for loot. Easy enough since most of the buildings were unlocked.

All except the garage. There were lots of scratches and a deep groove on the door. Looked like someone had been trying to get in. Took me a few seconds to bypass the lock and get inside. It was dark and quiet. Well, it was until someone knocked something on the floor.

"Company," I warned. We all lifted our weapons and pointed it in the direction of the noise. "Get out," I ordered. "Now!"

After a few seconds, a head cautiously poked out from behind a large cargo container. I lowered my pistol and motioned for him to step forward. "You're... you're human!" he realized, somehow skipping over Garrus, Mordin and Grunt. "What're you doing out here? You'll lead them right here!"

"They were already trying to get in," I replied. "You must've heard them. Seems like it's hard to hide from the Collectors."

"Those things are Collectors?" he gawked. "You mean... they're real? I thought they was just made up. You know—propaganda. To keep us in Alliance space."

Grammar issues aside, it was nice to see Horizon was living up to its reputation. **(3)**

"Oh god, no! They got Lilith," he cried out suddenly. "I saw her go down. Sten, too. They got damn near everybody!"

Guess his anti-Alliance sentiments had caused a lag in his memories. Hopefully I'd be able to get some intel from him. "What's your name?" I asked. "What do you do here?"

"Name's Delan. Mechanic. I came down to check on the main grid after we lost our comm signals. Then I heard screamin'. I looked outside and there was... bugs. Swarms of them. Everyone they touched just froze. I... I sealed the doors.

"Damn it—it... it's the Alliance's fault! They stationed that Commander Alenko here and built their defence towers. It made us a target!"

"Tell me more about this Alliance rep," I said, as if I had never met him. Not that that was true, of course.

"Commander Alenko? Heard he was some kind of hero or something. Didn't mean nothin' to me, though. Would've rather he just stayed back in Citadel space."

"Any idea what he was doing on Horizon?"

"Supposed to be helping us get the defence towers up and running," he sniffed. "I got the feeling he was here for something else. Spying on us, maybe."

I suddenly remembered my conversation with Anderson. He'd said something about Kaidan being assigned to some 'special mission.' Maybe it was Horizon, or colonies like it. But what was he doing, exactly? It must've been more than just setting up defences. Even Delan picked up on it, though he probably figured it was part of some sinister Alliance conspiracy.

"What's with those defences," I moved on.

"A gift from the Alliance," he sneered. "High powered GARDIAN lasers. **(4)** Supposed to keep hostile ships from landing near the colony. Had to build a massive underground generator just to give it enough juice. Only we couldn't get the targeting systems online. So the Alliance gave us a giant gun that couldn't shoot straight. Stupid sons-of-bitches."

"Why do you think this is the Alliance's fault?" I asked, half-suspecting the answer.

"We're just a small colony," he shrugged. "Nobody bothered us before we started building those damn defence towers and drew attention to ourselves. I left Citadel space to get away from the Alliance. Nothing good _ever_comes from getting mixed up with them."

"The Collectors are targeting remote colonies," I told him. "Maybe the Alliance was just trying to help."

"I don't need their help," he waved me off. "Too many strings attached. That rep said he was just here to get the towers online, but mark my words—there's more to it."

I was of two minds about this guy. On the one hand, his constant 'Everything's the Alliance's fault' was getting a bit annoying. **(5)** On the other hand, given everything he'd seen, it wasn't entirely unreasonable. Besides, he hadn't started whining that it was the Alliance's fault that he had to get up in the morning. "Where are the controls for the defence towers? If we can get them online, we can use them against the Collector ship."

Delan shook his head. "You'd need to calibrate the targeting system first. It's never worked right. Typical Alliance cr—"

"One of us should be able to figure it out," Garrus interrupted, much to my relief. "We just need the location."

"Head for the main transmitter on the other side of the colony," Delan directed us. "It's by the starport. Pretty hard to miss. The targeting controls are at its base."

Got it. Now, about Delan. I wasn't sure whether he'd be any use or not, but the Collectors were proving to be quite a handful. The last thing we needed was some civvie slowing us down. Or worse, knowing my luck. "That's where we'll go, then," I said. "It's probably better if you stay out of the way."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too," he nodded. He lifted up his omni-tool and tapped it. "I'll let you out, but I'm locking the door behind you. I'm not taking any chances."

Can't blame him. I would've told him the same thing.

"Good luck," Delan offered. "I think you're gonna need it."

You and me both, I thought to myself.

* * *

><p>We left the garage as soon as I'd had a minute to swipe anything that wasn't nailed down. As soon as we rounded the corner, we saw more bad guys. At first I thought it was raining Collectors. Then I saw it was a couple Collectors flying towards us while a bunch of husks dropped down from the roof of a nearby building and charged us.<p>

I signalled for Team Two to fend off the husks for now while my team tackled the Collectors. Grunt blasted through the biotic barriers of a Collector with a single concussive round. I quickly followed up with a headshot before Harbinger could get any ideas. Miranda and Kasumi took down another. That left three more. They had been completely unscathed by our assault, so neither one would be loaning out its body to Harbinger any time soon.

"I am assuming direct control."

Aw, crap. So much for that theory.

"Ignore Harbinger for now," I called out, belatedly realizing something. "Concentrate fire on the husks!"

Garrus and his team had eliminated most of them, but there were still two of them that were close enough to cause some serious problems. I quickly melted the armour off one of them. Garrus finished that one off with a concussive round. The second husk had already absorbed a lot of punishment, so Miranda managed to kill it without any trouble.

Looking quickly around, I counted only three targets. Some Collector with a particle beam weapon, like the one I'd 'liberated.' An injured Collector drone hiding near the side.

"You prolong the inevitable. This delay is pointless."

And Harbinger, of course.

"Team One, focus on the Collector with the laser gun; Team Two goes for the other Collector," I decided. "Leave Harbinger for now."

Miranda immediately launched a volley of biotics. Kasumi fired a quick burst from her submachine gun. Grunt...

...Grunt had been knocked out. Either that, or he had picked a really inconvenient time for a nap. Biting my lip, I cloaked and peered through the scope of my sniper rifle. One gentle tap on the trigger sent a round through the remnants of its barriers and into its head.

As the Collector collapsed, I noted that Team Two had eliminated their Collector as well. Now we just had to deal with Harbinger and—

What the heck was _that_?

At first I thought it was a giant hunchback. As it got closer, I realized it was a husk... or some obscenely mutated offspring of a husk. One toting a giant membranous tumour, pulsing and throbbing as if possessed with some kind of life. Or the weird blue substance glowing inside. The mass seemed to engulf its left arm, at least enough to make it look more like a weapon than a limb. I would later learn that that weapon was used at close range. For anything else, the... 'scion,' for lack of a better name, used something else. **(6)**

A bunch of blue explosions burst out from the scion towards us, bypassing any obstacles or cover in its way that it didn't rip to shreds. It suddenly occurred to me that getting out of the way might be a good idea—

—too late. The wave hit me, instantly shorting out my shields. My sensors helpfully told me that I had been hit with some sort of biotic shockwave. Come to think of it, Jack had pulled a similar trick with the last wave of Collectors we'd encountered. This shockwave, though, was much more powerful.

A brief cry drew my attention to Team Two. Jacob had been knocked to the ground and was sporting a nasty cut. Mordin seemed to be trying to treat him while patching up one of his own wounds. Team Two was frantically trying to take down Harbinger.

Good idea, I decided. I signalled Miranda and Kasumi to focus on Harbinger. It took a depressingly long time, and Miranda suffered a severe burn thanks to Harbinger's biotics, but we managed to finally eliminate Harbinger.

Then I heard a tortured moan. Sounded like a husk. I looked over.

Nope. It was that weird mutated scion thing.

And it was right on top of me.

Aw, crap.

I instinctively shot a bolt of plasma at it, got to my feet and ran like hell. I headed straight for a nearby cargo container, then jinked to the side. That dodge saved my life, as I heard as much as saw a series of biotic explosions follow my original trajectory. I ran around to the other side of the container. By that point, my omni-tool had recharged and I could launch another fireball. As the plasma flew away, I noticed that everyone else had found new places to hide, areas that surrounded the scion. Nice to know I don't have to hold their hand all the time.

The scion may have been powerful, but it was very slow, lumbering slowly from place to place. And my squad's tactics of surrounding it had another benefit—the damn thing couldn't decide who to go after. It kept moving towards one person, changing its mind, moving towards someone else, changing its mind again, firing off a biotic wave at yet another person...

Still, the thing seriously creeped me out, so I wasn't complaining when it finally collapsed. Then we could spare time to check on everybody, get them back to fighting form and loot for anything useful along the way to the starport.

"How come we don't see more frozen people around?" Grunt wondered.

"Yeah," Jack scowled. "Where the hell is everybody?"

"The Collectors have already loaded them onto their ship," Miranda realized. "We're running out of time."

Aw, crap. I hadn't realized it—having been distracted with saving my ass, checking on the squad and scrounging for goodies—but they were right. There were plenty of stasis pods lying around, but no more paralyzed colonists. If we didn't get our asses in gear, it would be too late.

We double-timed it to the starport. The gate leading to it was sealed shut, but I managed to bypass the lock and get us inside.

First thing I noted—a courtyard with crates, stacks of tires, large containers and other knick-knacks. Second, the Collector ship looming in the background. It was huge. Even all the way over here, I could see how large it was, and how it blended organic and mechanical elements like the particle beam weapon I'd picked up. Third, the transmitter was dead centre in the middle of the courtyard.

Last and most importantly: my HUD was practically screaming with all the targets it was picking up. Two scions dead ahead. A pack of husks to the left. And another pack of husks to the right.

Oh, and the doors had sealed behind me. We were trapped.

"Team One goes left, Team Two goes right," I immediately ordered. "Stay mobile. Weapons free."

The mobility part was particularly critical in our case. Our enemies were popping up all over the place and could easily get the drop on us. Especially since the husks loved suicide charges. As much as I wanted to bunker down and eliminate targets one by one, that just wouldn't cut it. Our only option was to run like hell, never stay in one spot for long and try to take out anyone who got in our way.

First up were the husks we were running towards. Between Miranda's biotics and my plasma, we managed to punch through their armour. Then we could shoot them. Or, in Grunt's case, charge towards them and knock them over. Scattered them like bowling pins, which made finishing them off a lot easier. Maybe there was something to this kamikaze charge thing.

Then one of the scions scored a direct hit on Grunt. He fell to one knee and shook his head before scrambling for cover.

Never mind.

Leaning around a corner, I saw a scion plod towards Team Two. They were pouring fire into the thing. So I did the same. Literally. Bolt of plasma right in the back.

What? It's safer that way.

I stayed out of cover for a second, just long enough to see the plasma splash over the scion. That was a second too long, as the other scion blew out the remnants of my shields with its attack, with enough leftover energy to make a very loud crack. Hopefully that was my hardsuit and not my ribs. Time to get moving—

Aw, crap. Husk dead ahead. Maybe I should retreat inst—

Nope, another husk over there. And a second husk behind it. Oh man, these things were _everywhere. _Groaning and moaning, swiping with their clawed hands, staring at us with their creepy eyes—and how could they be so alive with that unholy glowing blaze and yet so damn dead and empty? Why couldn't they be nothing more than some sick guy's imagination brought to life in some cheesy vid? Why did it have to be _real_?

Somehow, I got the team to move straight ahead, issuing orders on the fly. Grunt took out one of the husks who were behind us. Miranda cleared the way in front of us by generating a biotic pulse that detonated the husk in front. I tried to launch another fireball, but Kasumi was in the way. I started to drift to the side so I could get a clear shot...

...and then the last husk hit Kasumi. One swipe sent her flying into a nearby container with an audible thud.

Ulp.

The only bright side was that now I had a clear line of sight to the husk, which was now focused on the three of us. One bolt of plasma melted through its armour, and a single shotgun round from Grunt blew off its head.

By silent consent, we kept going. If the last husk was any indication, no one would go after Kasumi while she was unconscious. And it was simply too dangerous to go back and get her. I suppose I could have remotely triggered her hardsuit's medical systems to inject a pack's worth of medi-gel and get her back on her feet, but each squad member only had a couple packs. Those packs might be needed later on, when it was literally a matter of life or death, as opposed to life or probable death. It really depended on how the others were doing and what the battlefield was like.

That reminded me to dart around the transmitter and see how Team Two was doing. Not well as it turned out. They were backed into a corner, with another pack of husks charging towards them on one side and both scions heading their way on the other. I quickly motioned for Team One to draw the scions away. Miranda and I tag-teamed the weaker scion while Grunt switched to his assault rifle and fired a burst into the second.

Sure enough, that attracted their attention. We quickly started to retreat, jogging backward to keep an eye on the scions while looking over our shoulders to see if the coast was clear.

Gah—more husks. Oh wait. There were only two of them. Phew. I quickly led Miranda and Grunt between some crates. We just had to buy some more time until my omni-tool generated some more plasma.

As soon as it was ready, I sent it flying. Grunt was waiting for the fireball and let off a concussive round, timing things so it hit just after the fire splashed over the husk. The husk was knocked off its feet, tripping up its zombie partner. By the time husk number two was on its feet, we were waiting for it.

Now that that was done, it was time to deal with the scions. Consulting the HUD, I saw that Team Two had moved from their original position. They were near the transmitter, right between us and the scions.

"We'll double round to the starport doors and get the drop on the scions," I told Miranda and Grunt. "Keep your eyes peeled so any husks or whatnot don't do the same to us."

"Right," Miranda said.

Thankfully, there were no more husks. For now. All we had to do was play peek-a-boo with the scions and whittle their defences down one at a time.

Then it was over. No more bad guys for now. All we had to do was patch up our wounded, grab any spare ammo and limp our way to the transmitter.

As we got Kasumi back to her feet, I activated the comm. "Garrus, what's the sitrep?"

"Zaeed got mauled by the second batch of husks we encountered. Or third. Hard to keep track. He's not in the best of shape, but he says he'll be fine. Jacob got knocked out when we got pinned down—thanks for drawing the scions off, by the way. No way we could have dealt with them _and _the husks. He's all right now. How about you?"

"Kasumi took a few blows that knocked her out, but she'll be fine. Other than that, we're in good shape. Gather whatever clips you can find and meet me at the transmitter."

"Understood."

We congregated by the transmitter within five minutes. The squad members were either excited—Jack and Grunt—or riding the fine line between adrenaline-fuelled excitement and battle fatigue—everyone else.

"You're doing good, people," I told them. "Just keep it up."

"Right behind you," Jacob nodded, snapping off a quick salute.

"Good." Time to try and contact the Normandy again, I decided. "Normandy, come in. Do you copy?"

"_Joker_ _here_," our pilot responded over a low hiss of static. "_Signal's_ _weak_, _Commander_, _but_ _we_ _got_ _you_."

"EDI, can you get the colony's defence towers online?" I asked. If we could cripple the ship, maybe we could rescue all the abductees.

"_Errors_ _in_ _the_ _calibration_ _software_ _are_ _easily_ _rectified_," EDI confirmed, "_but it will take time to bring the towers to full power. I recommend a defensive posture. I will not be able to mask the increased generator output."_

"The Collectors will try to stop it," Grunt smiled, a feral light in his eyes. "Good."

Kasumi and Jacob exchanged a look and groaned. Zaeed gripped his assault rifle tightly and muttered something under his breath.

"Wonderful," I sighed. "Got any other helpful tips?"

_"Just one—enemy reinforcements are closing in. I suggest you ready weapons."_

Aw, crap.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, company came knocking within seconds. A bunch of Collectors led the way, one of them transforming into Harbinger before it even touched down.<p>

"Everyone follow me," I ordered. "Team One on point; Team Two cover our six." **(7)** Maybe this would help keep everyone conscious a little longer.

I led the squad back and forth through every bit of cover I could find. Team One dashed ahead. We gritted our teeth as the Collectors stood up and took pot shots at us. While they were distracted, Team Two concentrated their fire on one of the stronger Collectors, taking it out before it could raise any shields.

More running.

Team Two was hiding behind some crates, which were absorbing a hideous amount of punishment from Harbinger. A couple Collectors were taking advantage of the opportunity to try and circle around the crates. Before they got too far, we popped out of corner, quickly taking out the weakest Collector. Grunt fired a concussive round at the surviving Collector before we hastily retreated.

Still more running. Hit-and-run attacks were the name of the game.

"_Bypassing failsafes and attempting emergency power-up_," EDI reported. "_Please hold the defence towers_."

Oh was that all I had to do?

We dashed past the transmitter for what must have been the umpteenth time, just in time for a Collector to graze my shields with its particle beam weapon. I hastily ordered a retreat, only to see a trio of husks heading our way—

—and Harbinger right on top of us!

I quickly cloaked, pulled out my sniper rifle and fired a shot. Harbinger collapsed in a heap, and I signalled everyone via my HUD to head for some cover at the far corner. As we ran, we threw plasma fire, biotics, gunfire and foul language at the husks. By the time we'd taken cover, there was only one husk left. I was about to open fire on it when Jack launched a biotic wave from her fingertips, sending the husk soaring through the air to land on top of another Collector. The Collector pushed the now dead husk aside, levitated up into the air and transformed into Harbinger. Again.

"You will know pain, Shepard."

Sometimes, I think my life really sucks.

We couldn't get to the other Collectors from our current position, so we had to run towards a better vantage point. Yes, more running. Hit-and-run attacks were the name of the game.

That is, when we weren't playing the other game called 'Being pinned down.' Which I had to play, simply because my shields were gone. Again. I cloaked, leaned out and fired my sniper rifle. Didn't quite take out that Collector, but it was down to a sliver of health. Someone finished it off with a concussive round. Either Garrus or Zaeed, judging by the distance.

Now it was only Harbinger. Everyone was in hiding at this point, so we took turns popping out of cover to fire on it. No one else arrived to back it up, so it was seven on one. And yet, no one felt guilty when it bit the dust. Again.

"Get ready," Miranda said grimly. "There's got to be more."

"There's always more," Grunt agreed merrily, a disturbing glint in his eyes.

"Isn't it great?" Jack grinned.

"Try not to sound so happy," Garrus said dryly.

Sure enough, a bunch of husks reared their ugly, moaning faces on our right, with a Collector right behind them.

As we fired back, EDI gave us another sitrep: "_Sequential power-up initiated. GARDIAN anti-ship batteries at 40%_."

Well it's about time!

"Reinforcements," Jacob said, pointing out some more Collectors. "We've got their attention now."

Ya think?

Good news: no more husks. Bad news: lots of Collectors all around us. Spying some cover in the form of a wall near one of the buildings, I signalled everyone to head that way. We barrelled behind cover, Jack taking a hit from Harbinger that sent her flying headfirst into the wall. Garrus quickly lunged out, grabbed her by the... straps, I guess, and hauled her back. Thankfully, there was a pack of medi-gel nearby, so we cracked it open and administered it.

As Jack opened her eyes, EDI chimed in again. "_GARDIAN anti-ship batteries at 60%. Syncing targeting protocols to Normandy's systems. Continue to protect the tower_."

Only four Collectors, thank goodness. One of them was Harbinger, boldly striding towards us. I wasn't sure whether it was trying to get up close and personal. Normally that would be suicide. But normally, bad guys can't possess and upgrade new bodies on the fly. Not wanting to take a chance, I set him on fire, burning him to ashes.

Three Collectors to go. Zaeed and Grunt took out the barriers on one of the Collector's barriers with concussive rounds, leaving it open for Mordin to burn the sucker. Another Collector was running around without barriers. Jacob surrounded it in a biotic field and lifted him up in the air, exposing it for Miranda, who detonated Jacob's biotic field.

That left one more. Could we finish it off before Harbinger hacked its body? Three concussive rounds drilled into it, each one landing with a dull explosion. Jack yanked it skyward, making it easy for me to burn the sucker.

You'd think that would be it. I was done for the day, to be honest.

Naturally, Harbinger had other plans.

At first I thought it was another Collector flying towards us. I soon realized it was way too big to be a Collector. As it got closer, I got a better look. It seemed that the husks were sending another grossly mutated cousin to crash the party.

And boy was it _ugly_. And huge. Its head was similar in shape to a Collector, only with glowing blue eyes and dark armour plating like a husk. A large body was grafted underneath, without any trace of a neck. Several legs dangled beneath it, each ending in an enormous, sharp blade. As it landed, I saw it had its mouth full. Literally—it looked like a bunch of husk heads were stuffed inside its jaws. It glared at us and let out a high-pitched metallic shriek.

"EDI, we need that system online!" I called out.

"Whatever that is, don't get too close!" Miranda yelled at the same time. Sage advice, as we'd soon find out.

It took a lot of work to bust through its barriers—they were really strong—and start chipping away at its armour. I launched a fireball, ducked and waited for my omni-tool to recharge.

Something else recharged first. The... whatever it was dropped to the ground, landing with enough force to make the ground shake. A huge burst of biotic energy swept out, shaking everything in its path. I was still monitoring it with my sensors, so I saw its barrier recharge, bathing it in some kind of blue-tinged field. We fired again, but nothing we did stuck. It was like its biotic attack had simultaneously recharged its barrier and rendered it invulnerable.

"_GARDIAN anti-ship batteries at 100%_," EDI said. "_I have control_."

Finally. Some _good _news.

The thing took off again. The blue field went away. Grunt fired a couple shots at it immediately. We could all see its barriers dip accordingly.

Then the thing—I really had to come up with a better name for it—floated our way. **(8)** With the height it had, our current cover would be rendered useless in seconds. Time to move.

And not a second too soon—beams of energy blasted out from it, lancing towards us. They touched on me, and my shields disintegrated beneath the onslaught.

"_Firing anti-ship batteries at Collector vessel_," EDI reported as we ran like hell.

As I sprinted for the closest piece of cover that was tall enough to block that thing from seeing me, I checked my sensor readings. What I saw prompted me to activate the comm. "Miranda, Garrus, Grunt, Zaeed—take out the barrier. Mordin and I will handle its armour. Everyone else... use your discretion."

You see, while the barrier had been fully restored, the armour had not. This meant that as soon as we took down the barrier, we would have a brief window of opportunity to deal as much damage as possible before the barriers were recharged again. The longer we could drag this fight out, the more the odds would shift in our favour. As long as we didn't do something stupid and got ourselves killed, of course.

Miranda and the others I'd designated immediately launched their biotics and various abilities. Kasumi and a couple others followed suit with their submachine guns, the rapid fire of those weapons well suited for that kind of defence. In the distance, we could see the GARDIAN towers fire at the Collector ship, their shots sending ripples through its shields.

Mordin and I launched twin streams of plasma fire as soon as the barriers went down. Jacob joined in with an overcharged blast from his geth shotgun, weakening the enemy's armour to about 50% integrity. In response, it slammed down on the ground and emitted a biotic pulse from its body—both of which failed to hit us—and regenerated its barrier.

"Everyone ready to hit its barrier again?" I asked over the comm. Several affirmatives chimed in. "Then as soon as that thing's up in the air, we repeat the same drill. Weapons free!"

So we repeated the same trick a few more times. Well, almost—during the last one, I kinda took a wrong turn. Went right when I should've gone left and wound up face to face—to face to face to face to... well, you get the idea—with the monstrosity. Noting that its barriers were gone—again—and it barely had any armour, I grabbed my pistol and fired a couple shots. To my delight, the thing exploded into miniscule pieces. Didn't even get drenched in goop. I automatically looked around for the next wave of bad guys.

But I guess the Collectors had enough. A rumbling crescendo was the only warning we got before rockets ignited at the base of the Collector ship.

Crap.

"They're pulling out," Jacob observed, as the ship lifted off.

"There's no reason to stay," Miranda said. "Most of the colonists must be onboard. They got what they came for."

Crap.

"No! Don't let them get away!"

It was Delan, the mechanic we met earlier. He ran into the courtyard, slowly stopping as the ship disappeared into the clouds.

"There's nothing we can do," I told him. "They're gone."

"Half the colony's in there," he protested. "They took Egan and Sam and... and Lilith! Do something!"

"I didn't want it to end this way," I said. "I did what I could."

"It was a good fight, Shepard," Grunt approved.

That got his attention. "Shepard? Wait... I know that name."

"Sure, I remember you. You're some type of big Alliance hero."

"Commander Shepard," a voice said softly. "Captain of the Normandy. The first human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel."

It was Kaidan. Talk about a sight for sore eyes.

"You're in the presence of a legend, Delan," he told the mechanic. "And a ghost."

"All the good people we lost and _you_get left behind," Delan spat in disgust. "Figures. Screw this. I'm done with you Alliance types."

I think he stormed away at that point. I barely noticed, too focused on my old squad mate. Kaidan walked up to me and, after a pause, shook my hand. "I thought you were dead, Commander. We all did."

"It's been too long, Kaidan," I smiled. "How have you been?"

"That's all you have to say?" he asked incredulously. "You show up after two years and just act like nothing happened?"

I had a feeling I was missing something.

"I would've followed you anywhere, Commander," he snapped at me. "Thinking you were gone... it was like losing a limb. Why didn't you try to contact me? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

Okay. Not knowing all the facts, I guess he felt left out by whatever he thought I was doing. "It's a little hard to keep in touch when you're on an operating table. I basically died when the Normandy went down. Spent the last two years in some kind of coma while I was being healed. Operated on. Whatever. Even after I got out, I had no idea where you were. All I knew was that you were on some kind of secret mission, in which case you probably wouldn't be checking your official e-mail."

"But where were you?" Kaidan persisted. "It would be pretty hard for any hospital to keep news of your admittance a secret, especially if it was for that long."

I braced myself. This was gonna be interesting: "It's easier when the medical facility and its staff are all run by Cerberus."

Kaidan took a few steps back, his face stiffening. "You're with Cerberus now? Garrus too? I can't believe the reports were right."

"Reports?" Garrus asked. "You mean you already knew?"

"So much for security," Miranda muttered.

"Alliance intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing human colonies. They got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit. Anderson stonewalled me, but there were rumours that you weren't dead. That you were working for the enemy."

So this whole defence tower thing was just a cover to determine whether Cerberus was behind the attacks—and confirm that I had joined them. Well ain't that peachy?

"Alliance Intel needs to get their facts straight," I snapped, "and so do you, apparently. All I did was wake up after a two-year nap, fight my way out of a research station and investigate one colony. After that, I made a beeline for the Citadel. Upon Anderson's request."

That last part was added to appeal to Kaidan's respect for our former CO. It didn't take a genius to see that his view of me had been tainted by the belief that I was now working for the enemy. Hopefully, his opinion of Anderson hadn't been similarly affected.

"And?" was all he said coldly.

"Anderson—and the Council—summoned me regarding some of those rumours you heard, about me working for Cerberus. Which I'm not, by the way. I told them that the Collectors were abducting human colonists out in the Terminus Systems—and they said they couldn't do anything since it was outside Citadel space. I also told them that they were working with the Reapers—and they said they thought the whole Reaper thing was a myth. Again. But they were willing to reinstate me as a Spectre and investigate it. Anderson can give you all the details."

"And what about Cerberus?" he persisted. "I wanted to believe the rumours that you were alive, but I never expected anything like this. You turned your back on everything I've ever stood for."

I raised a finger before he could go any further. "Last I checked, the things you stood for were the same things I stood for—protecting and safeguarding humanity and the galactic community. My status as a Spectre authorizes me to preserve galactic stability any way I see fit. So technically I'm not turning my back on anything. Second, I'm investigating these abductions because the Collectors and the Reapers have taken a real keen interest in humanity. Given where these colonies are located, the Council and the Alliance can't do anything without setting off a political minefield. I, on the other hand, have a bit more latitude. Finally, neither the Council nor the Alliance was willing to give me any resources to investigate all the abductions. Probably because it was too politically inconvenient to deal with the Reaper threat. Cerberus was the only group who provided any assistance."

"You know," I added. "It wouldn't surprise me if someone in Cerberus leaked those rumours to make me a pariah in the eyes of the Council and the Alliance. To force me to accept their help because no one else is offering. I don't like it. But the only other choice is to sit by and—"

"And join the enemy?" Kaidan interrupted.

"And do nothing," I continued, pretending I hadn't been interrupted or felt hurt. "Come on, Kaidan. You know me. You know I'd only do this for the right reason. You saw it yourself. The Collectors are targeting human colonies. And they're working with the Reapers."

"I want to believe you, Shepard. But I don't trust Cerberus," Kaidan insisted. "They could be using the threat of a Reaper to manipulate you. What if they're behind it? What if they're working with the Collectors?"

"Typical Alliance attitude," Miranda sniffed, crossing her arms. "You're so focused on Cerberus that you're blind to the real threat."

Ignoring her, I focused on Kaidan. "All the more reason to see what they're up to," I shrugged. "If they're on the up-and-up, then we'll squash the Collectors. If they're trying to manipulate me into doing something that isn't in the best interests of the Alliance and the Council, then they've got another thingcoming."

"Look," I continued, taking a few steps toward Kaidan—and conveniently getting out of earshot of the rest of the squad. "You once warned me about the wisdom of always leaving a way out and the perils of cutting corners. Right now, somebody's been cutting my options, so the only way out involves me hitching a ride on passenger transports or freighters to continue my investigation. Or I could lounge around doing absolutely squat, while colonies go dark and people like Egan and Sam and Lilith and, oh let me think, _you_ disappear.

"Or I can grit my teeth and work with someone who's actually gathering resources and personnel to deal with this threat. Even though they are the same guys who wanted to play with rachni and husks and sacrifice good men and women. It might not sit well. It might not be ideal, but it's better than waiting for something more convenient to come along. Because I haven't changed.

"I'm not doing it because I've suddenly reconsidered my past decisions and think that selling secrets to the Shadow Broker is okay. Or sacrificing the Council is fine. Or because it's the popular thing to do. Or to get back in the Alliance's good books. Or to curry favour with the Council. And I'm certainly not doing it because Cerberus said so. _I__'__m __doing __it __because __the __only __alternative __is __to __stand __around __and __watching __everything __go __to __hell! __I__'__M __DOING __IT __BECAUSE __IT__'__S __RIGHT, __GODDAMNIT!_"

That last part was delivered at a pretty high volume, negating any privacy I might have tried to establish. Frankly, I didn't care. I spent two years dead, got ignored or worse by a bunch of REMFs and politicians who didn't know any better and had enough trouble grappling with existential questions that are way above my pay grade. This mission wasn't bad when it came to getting loot, but absolutely _sucked_when it came to saving the colonists. And now someone I used to trust with my life was calling me a traitor. Yeah, that hurt. Under the circumstances, I think I had a right to be a bit peeved. Asshole was lucky I didn't punch his lights out. **(9)**

Kaidan didn't say anything for a while, perhaps trying to process what I'd just said and not blurt anything else out that he might regret. I hoped so—that would be more in line with the Kaidan I used to know.

"You sure that's what it is?" he finally asked. "Not the fact that maybe _you _feel like you owe Cerberus because they saved you?"

"I didn't ask for anybody to bring me back from the dead. I'm working _with_ them, not _for_ them, and only out of reluctance," I replied. "Besides, I already caught the guy who likes to call himself boss holding things back. And their idea of trusting me involves bugging my quarters six ways to Sunday. Seriously, they've got no sense of privacy whatsoever."

For the first time, he let a slight smile slip through. Maybe I was onto something.

"If you want, I can go back and visit Anderson and the Council again," I offered. "But I'm pretty sure it'll go something like this: 'Shepard. Nice to see you again. We have dismissed your claims of Reapers as false. If you really think there's something big with these abductions, you have the authority as a Spectre to deal with it as you see fit. We hope to a quick resolution to that and your relationship with Cerberus."

"What about the Alliance?" he asked. "Internal Affairs could sort things out."

"Or they could lock me up and subject me to rounds of questions and interrogations for the next several months," I snorted. "Or years. Anything to keep me quiet and out of the way. We both know how pervasive politics can be," I added before Kaidan could open his mouth. "IA is no exception."

Kaidan grudgingly nodded. "I've got to report back to the Citadel. They can decide if they believe your story or not."

Nice. Carefully phrasing things without indicating whether he believed me. Which probably meant he didn't.

He started to walk away. I couldn't let him go like that. Not after everything I'd been through. "I could use someone like you in my crew, Kaidan," I tried. "It'll be just like old times."

"No, it won't," he said, turning back. "I'll never work for Cerberus."

"_With_ them," I corrected.

"If you say so."

Okay. That really hurt. "Look, I've been recording everything I saw or detected since I landed on Horizon. Take my sensor logs," I offered, copying them on an OSD and handing it to him. "Maybe the Alliance and the Council can get something useful from them."

"Maybe." Kaidan carefully took it, handling it like a live grenade rather than a data storage device, and stowed it in a side pocket. "Goodbye, Shepard. Be careful."

No thanks. No wishes of good luck. Just 'Goodbye.' I guess that went well.

"Joker—send the shuttle to pick us up. I've had enough of this colony."

Or maybe I was still a bit bitter.

* * *

><p>I would have liked some time to unwind. Alone, maybe with some jazz. Certainly the squad picked up enough of my mood to keep silent for the entire trip back. TIMmy wasn't so understanding. He insisted on talking with me. Even locked out the controls again. So I had no choice but to chat with him.<p>

"Shepard. Good work on Horizon. Hopefully, the Collectors will think twice before attacking another colony."

"It's not a victory," I corrected. "We interrupted the Collectors, but they still abducted half the colony."

"That's better than an entire colony and more than we've accomplished since the abductions began," TIMmy replied. "The Collectors will be more careful now, but I think we can find another way to lure them in."

And there was the confirmation. "Kaidan said the Alliance got a tip about me and Cerberus. Was that you?"

He took a puff of his cigarette before answering. "I may have let it slip that you were alive. And with Cerberus."

"You risked the lives of my friend, my crew and that entire colony? _Just_ to lure the Collectors there?" I demanded.

"A calculated risk," TIMmy said coolly. "I suspected the Collectors were looking for you, or people connected to you. Now I know for certain. I told you I wouldn't sit and wait while the Reapers and Collectors gather strength. Besides, they would've hit another colony eventually. And without a way to predict which one, they would've abducted everyone."

"Instead, they abducted every other person. That's not good enough," I said firmly. "We have to make sure they don't abduct _anyone_ else."

"I want the Collectors stopped for that very reason," he assured me. "That's why we're doing this, Shepard. I'm devoting all resources to finding a way through the Omega 4 relay. We have to hit them where they live.

"Your squad will need to be strong... as will their resolve. There's no looking back. The same goes for you. Can I assume you've put your past relationships behind you?"

"None of your damn business!" I snapped.

I was still a bit touchy about my less-than-friendly reunion with Kaidan, and I hadn't had an opportunity to give anyone a headshot since. So I might have been a little tense.

TIMmy took it well, casually tapping some ash off his cigarette. "If it affects the mission, better you should leave it behind. That goes for the rest of your squad. Shepard, once we find a way through the Omega 4 relay to the Collector homeworld... there's no guarantee you'll return. To have any hope of surviving, you—and your entire squad—must be fully committed to this."

Thank you, TIMmy, for pointing out the patently obvious. "Let me worry about them," I told him. "You just find us a way to the Collector homeworld."

"I just want to be up front about your odds. You'll need everyone at their best." TIMmy moved on to the last topic on his agenda. "I've forwarded three more dossiers. Keep building your squad while I find a way through the relay. And be careful, Shepard. The Collectors will be watching you."

With that, he ended the communication. As the hologram flickered away and the table lifted back into place, I turned around. Jacob was there. "I guess we're really gonna do it," he said. "Hit the Omega 4 relay, take the fight to the Collectors in person."

"Looks like," I nodded.

"Looking forward to the action. After seeing what those bastards did on Horizon, though... makes you think."

"They're powerful," I admitted, "but we've got a few tricks for them. If anyone can stop them, we can."

"No argument there, Commander. Horizon just made it hit home." Jacob looked at his feet for a moment before continuing. "What we're doing, what we're up against."

Yeah. It was sobering, I had to admit.

"Gonna go take care of a little unfinished business. I imagine everyone else is, too—getting some closure, you know?"

He was definitely still processing, as evidenced by the fact that he gave a brief nod before departing instead of his usual salute.

* * *

><p>A lot of other people were still processing everything that happened on Horizon, thanks to the efficiency of the ol' grapevine.<p>

"I saw the reports on Horizon, Commander," Kelly greeted me. "What you did was amazing. The report mentioned that Kaidan Alenko was there. How did that go?"

I found myself wondering whether she was really asking out of concern or because she was trying to see whether she could push some Cerberus agenda. Probably the former, I decided. She was a bit too open for any shenanigans. "It was good to see him," I simply said.

"That's good to hear," she replied.

Joker was a bit more hesitant. Afraid I might take any frustrations I had on the resolution of the mission outon him—and his relatively brittle bones. "Hey, Commander. That's, uh, it's pretty crazy who you can run into out here, huh? I mean, it was probably a setup, but it was still good to see Kaidan. Staff Commander Alenko, wasn't it?"

Right. His promotion. It was a good thing that never came up. Given how things turned out, I might not have saluted him. "He moved on," I said after a moment. "Can't blame him."

"He was front line with you against a Reaper and _I__'__m_the one roped back into saving the galaxy? Did someone switch our files or something?" he joked.

"You're the force that holds us all together, Joker," I told him lightly. "The fate of the galaxy depends on your presence and voice urging us on."

"Yeah, this sucks, I'll give you that."

I wasn't sure whether he was trying to commiserate with me or shove things aside with bad jokes like me. Maybe both. Either way, I quickly moved on.

I finished my rounds, but more for the sake of old habits. Didn't really have the stomach for it. Aside from overhearing that one of the crew—Goldstein—was originally stationed on Horizon, so he could have been abducted if he hadn't been recruited by Cerberus, there wasn't much news. So I went back to my quarters. As usual, I searched the room for bugs—perhaps with more fervour than usual. Out of habit, I checked my e-mail. Aside from the usual spam, I got this message:

_From: Robyn Reeve_

_Commander,_

_The Alliance soldier here gave me this contact information—I hope this reaches you._

_You said you were trying to stop those Collectors. They took my son and my brother. Have you found them? Do you know where they are? I know you're looking, but so many people are just gone. Every family lost someone. The children are the worst. Empty desks at the schools, winter clothes that never got worn._

_Please. The Alliance isn't doing anything. The Council isn't doing anything. If you can find our people, I'm begging you to do something. Tell me something I can do._

_Tell me anything,  
>Robyn Reeve<em>

I really hate this kind of message. I mean, what am I supposed to say? I'm sorry for your loss? Yes, I know where they are, but I'm not going to get them yet because I'm not ready? Going now would just be suicide, whereas going later will only be probable suicide? Or should I just type out something useless like "Thank you for your message. We thank you for your interest. Rest assured we're doing everything possible to bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion."

Suddenly sick with anything having to do with this mission, I shut down my computer and turned to the new dossiers on my desk. Before, I had half a mind to ignore them. Or delete them. Some little gesture to show that I wasn't a two-bit traitor. That I was still, well, me. Whatever that was.

Now? Now I really needed a distraction. So I opened the dossiers. Drell assassin. Nice. Likely found on Illium. Asari justicar. Whatever that was. Also found on Illium.

Two pickups on the same planet. Definite contender.

And...

Tali.

Hello.

Maybe this day wasn't a complete disaster.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Despite the Council's assurances that reports were not necessary, Shepard continued to compose his personal logs and sent them to me via data bursts. His intelligence on foes such as the Collectors was invaluable, particularly as there had been no recorded encounter with them before. <em>

_(2): Subsequent analysis from Cerberus personnel revealed that each Collector had an extensive network of cybernetic implants, particularly in their cerebellum, each keyed to a specific signal. They theorized that a singular entity—who they dubbed 'the Collector General'—used those implants to override their motor and sensory functions, much like a biological version of a hack or a cybernetic version of daemonic possession. This process had the added effect of enhancing their minimal biotic abilities to an impressive degree. They were at a loss, however, to explain how this process occurred, or why the Collector General gave itself the human designation of 'Harbinger.'_

_(3): Whether intentional or not, Horizon was known for its colonial culture and status as a sanctuary for those trying to flee from the increasing restrictions of Citadel-governed space, which the Alliance had adopted. As a result, it tended to attract a variety of dissidents and fringe-dwellers. _

_(4): General ARea Defence Integration Anti-spacecraft Network—a system of anti-missile and anti-fighter laser turrets under computer control. Typically placed on the exterior hull of frigates. _

_(5): A statement that indicated Shepard's loyalties had not been compromised, no matter what other individuals might think or say. _

_(6): Subsequent analysis determined the 'scion' was composed of three husks. The mass Shepard described contained redundant organs and element zero sources to power its biotic abilities. _

_(7): Shepard ordered Team One to go first, while Team Two keep an eye on the rear to protect the squad from surprise attacks. _

_(8): Shepard would eventually designate this new husk as a 'Praetorian,' after the ancient human elite guard of the Roman Empire, a fitting name for this new threat._

_(9): For the record, I have never heard Shepard use such labels for Commander Alenko, in public or in private. Under the circumstances, though, his frustrations are understandable—and his restraint is quite commendable. For Alenko's part, he may have suffered from some lingering traces of survivor's guilt._


	15. Those Flashlights Look Familiar

**Chapter 13: Those Flashlights Look Familiar **

The last time I saw Tali, she said she was in the midst of a mission that took her into geth-controlled space. Haestrom—which TIMmy's dossier said she was currently mucking around on—definitely qualified. It was originally colonized as a scientific outpost by the quarians to study the system's star, which was exhibiting unusual instability, and thus warranted little in the way of security or military reinforcement. Needless to say, it was quickly overrun by the geth during the Geth War in 1896. I had no idea why Tali might be going back there. Not that it mattered—she was there, so we would follow. Likelihood of geth be damned.

"Off to find a potential recruit on a distant world filled with hostile geth," Garrus murmured as the shuttle touched down into the ruins of the colony. "Just like old times."

"At least I'm consistent," I joked.

"_Shepard,__"_ EDI interrupted, _"__our __data __indicates __that __Tali __is __somewhere __in __these __ruins. __There __is __considerable __geth __activity __and __an __environmental __hazard.__"_

"'An environmental hazard'?" I repeated, as we disembarked.

"_Solar output has overwhelmed Haestrom's protective magnetosphere. Exposure to direct sunlight will damage your shields." _

"Yeah, we should probably avoid that," Kasumi piped up. "I'm wearing black, after all."

"Then we will fight in the shade," Grunt snarled, "but no hiding!"

"Settle down, people," I said. "Let's move out."

EDI was right. As soon as we stepped into the sunlight, alarms would flash on our HUDs and our shields would start to drop. We quickly learned to sprint through any patches of sunlight as quickly as possible.

Up ahead stood a large gatehouse door that was sealed. The room on the side, however, was not. As we entered the room, we heard an automatic voice recording: _"__Emergency __log __entry. __The __geth __are __here. __I__'__ve __stayed __to __buy __the __others __time. __Anyone __who __gets __this__—__find __Tali__'__Zorah. __She __and __that __data __are __all __that __matters. __Keelah __se__'__lai.__"_ **(1)**

The person giving the quarian presumably was the quarian lying dead at our feet, who'd given his life fending off geth like the one collapsed next to him. We quickly searched the room. One or two items worth salvaging, a medi-kit and controls for the gatehouse we'd seen earlier. I quickly accessed the controls to open it.

As we stepped out, we saw the gatehouse doors retracting, revealing a courtyard filled with random bits of machinery and constructions supplies that provided shelter from the devastating sun. We also saw a distressingly familiar shape dove towards us. "What the fuck?" Jack exclaimed.

"Incoming geth dropship!" Garrus shouted. "Everyone, take cover!"

The dropship swept past us, but not before dropping off a bunch of geth troopers. I led Team One to shelter behind some pipes while Team Two huddled on either side of the gatehouse walls. Garrus zapped the shields of three geth that were clustered close together. Before they could separate, Jacob yanked them up into the air. Miranda was quick to detonate the biotic field, sending bits of geth raining down. Kasumi and Grunt tag-teamed another geth while Zaeed and I sniped the last two.

Looking around, I saw a ramp leading up to a catwalk that ran along the courtyard. "Garrus," I radioed, "I'll take Team One up the ramp and down that catwalk. You take Team Two to move through the courtyard."

"Understood."

The catwalk had plenty of nooks and crannies—thanks to all the barrels and crates lying about—that could hide geth. Especially since geth didn't mind cramming themselves into small gaps. So I had Team One leapfrog their way down the catwalk, keeping their heads down to avoid the sun.

Of course, the geth had to show their flashlight heads when _I _was the one moving towards the front. I immediately activated my cloak and sprinted towards the closest geth—who was also between me and cover—where I set about punching the heck out of it. Yes, it seemed that shields and a hardened chassis were no match for a thoroughly peeved guy and his fists. Maybe the krogan were onto something.

By the time the geth had succumbed to death—or is that deletion?—by fisticuffs, my cloak had collapsed. The other geth immediately started firing at me, draining my shields in short order. I dove for cover, noting out of the corner of my eye that one of the geth absorbed two successive EMPs, which caused it to explode in a cloud of shrapnel and conductive fluid. Another geth, whose shields had also been wiped out by the EMPs, took a concussive round from Grunt in the kisser.

Checking my HUD, I saw that Team Two had also run into some opposition, but they seemed to have things under control. In fact, they were making progress across the courtyard. Time for Team One to do the same, I decided.

The team started moving forward one by one, exchanging weapons fire with the geth, with the odd EMP, fireball or concussive round as the situation warranted. We had made our way down most of the ramp when three more geth showed up.

One of them was a rocket trooper.

"Okay, we'll definitely have to take the rocket trooper out first," I decided. "Miranda, get ready to hit it with an EMP. Once its shields are down, we can take it out and then deal with the other—"

Before I could finish, Grunt let out a roar and charged the troopers. He bowled them over like bowling pins. Well, he bowled the geth troopers over like bowling pins. The rocket trooper was crushed into the wall at the end of the catwalk. Kinda like when Grunt and I first met. Only I didn't have my chest cavity flattened and my innards splattered.

"Or we could let Grunt loose," I shrugged.

"Uncouth, unorthodox... and distressingly effective," Miranda was forced to admit.

We finished off the last two geth and went down a ramp towards Team Two. They were taking fire from a pair of geth at the far end of the courtyard. I assigned each geth to Miranda and Kasumi and counted down from three. On cue, they launched their EMPs, shorting out their shields. Grunt fired another concussive round to send one of the geth flying out of cover while I sniped the other one. Team Two promptly took advantage of the opportunity to take out the last geth.

"Report," I said.

"No casualties. Picked up some iridium and a weapons upgrade we can check out back on the Normandy," Garrus said concisely.

Meanwhile, Kasumi had taken the initiative to scout ahead. "Can't go forward, but there's a tunnel here," she said over the comm.

The tunnel also had some geth. One of them was guarding the tunnel, but quickly fell to mass weapons fire. The other two were busy firing at someone outside the tunnel, so we kinda caught them off guard.

Off to the side, there was a geth that was shimmering in and out of sight. Apparently, geth had cloaking devices too. I scanned it to see if I could copy their cloak. No such luck—all I got were some spare parts that I could sell for salvage. Better than nothing, I suppose. There was also a submachine gun lying nearby. No idea who it was, but I scooped it up for analysis and mass production.

Outside, I could see a pair of quarians shooting at something. They were about 72 metres from our position. **(2)** Before I could look around, I was interrupted by a voice. _"__Break-break-break. __OP-1, __this __is __Squad __Leader __Kal__'__Reegar. __Do __you __copy? __The __geth __sent __a __dropship __towards__OP-2. __Tali__'__Zorah__'__s __secure, __but __we __need __backup.__"_

We started looking around. Miranda was the one who spotted the comm unit lying on the ground and handed it to me. _"__We__'__re __bunkered __up __here,__" _Kal'Reegar continued. _"__Can __you __send __support?__"_

Well I can, once I figure out how this—ah! Here we go. "This is Commander Shepard of the Normandy. Can we provide assistance?"

"_Patch __your __radio __into __Channel __617-theta,__" _Kal'Reegar instructed. As we adjusted our comms, he gave us the sitrep: _"__We __were __on __a __stealth __mission. __High __risk. __We __found __what __we __were __after,__but __the __geth __found __us. __They__'__ve __got __us __pinned __down. __Can__'__t __get __to __our __ship, __can__'__t __transmit __data __through __the __solar __radiation.__"_

"What's the status of your team?" I asked. "How many of you are left?"

"_We were a small squad. Dozen marines, plus the science team."_

Past tense. That's never good.

"_We__'__re__down__to__half-strength__now,__"_ Kal'Reegar said, confirming my suspicions. _"__Made __the __synthetic __bastards __pay __for __it, __though.__"_

"What brought you this deep into geth-controlled space?"

"_You're asking the wrong person, Shepard. I just point and shoot._"

I liked this guy already.

"_Something about the sun. It's going bad faster than it should. Some kind of energy problem_."

_That__'__s _what they were here for? "Any idea where the geth came from?" I asked, rather than try to wrap my head around it.

"_One __of __their __patrol __ships __found __us,__"_ he explained. _"__Dropships __started __raining __geth __down __on __our __heads __before __we __could __get __off-world. __System__'__s __under __geth __control. __We __knew __they __made __planetary __sweeps __periodically. __We__'__d __hoped __going __low-emissions __would __hide __us.__"_

"Do we have to worry about the geth sending in reinforcements?" I pressed. It already looked like we'd be meeting my quota of geth for the day before the mission was over. I really didn't want any more geth dropping by. Literally.

"_I __don__'__t __think __so,__"_ he replied. _"__Their __patrol __ship __hasn__'__t __lifted __off __again __and __the __radiation __blocks __all __offworld __communications.__"_

"How are you holding up? We can be there in a few minutes."

"_Take __it __slow __and __careful,__"_ Kal'Reegar warned. _"__Direct __sunlight __fries __your __shields __all __to __hell. __Weapons __too. __We__'__re __bunkered __down __at __base __camp __across __the __valley. __I __left __our __mission __lead, __Tali__'__Zorah, __at __a __secure __shelter __with __the __data, __then __doubled __back __to __hold __the __chokepoint. __Getting __Tali __out __safely __is __our __top __priority. __If __you __can __extract __her, __we__'__ll __keep __them __off __you.__" _

"You've got confirmation that the geth haven't reached Tali yet?" I said.

Kal'Reegar didn't give any sign of surprise by my use of her nickname. Probably because he didn't have the luxury of indulging his curiosity with such matters. "Affirmative_. Left my best men with her. Every marine on this rock is sworn to protect Tali'Zorah. Long as one of us is still drawing air, she'll be safe._"

"Wait," I objected. "You said earlier you couldn't transmit data. That's what you're fighting for? You're going to throw your life away so she can e-mail a couple bits of data?"

"_Negative,__"_ Kal'Reegar replied. _"__I__'__m __going __to __give __my __life __for __the __Migrant __Fleet. __All __the __difference __in __the __galaxy.__"_

Fair enough.

"I'm no tech expert, Shepard," he added. _"__I__'__m __a __marine. __They __tell __me __to __shoot, __I __shoot. __They __said __to __protect __Tali __and __the __data, __that__'__s __what __I__'__ll __do. __If __you __get __them __out __safe, __I__'__ve __done __my __job.__"_

"Hold your position," I advised. "We'll hit their back ranks and—"

"_Wait!__"_ Kal'Reegar interrupted. _"__Watch __your __ass! __We__'__ve __got __a __dropship __coming __in!__"_

A dropship swooped in and fired three mass accelerator rounds at the quarians I'd spotted earlier. On second glance, I saw they were guarding a doorway of some sort. The resulting explosions ripped them to shreds. It also destroyed the supports holding a pillar upright. It started swaying back and forth.

I got the feeling that that door might lead to someplace important, so I led the squad out on a run. We were too late, though. Barely took a dozen steps before the pillar crashed in front of us.

"_Crap. Doorway's blocked!"_

"Yeah, I can see that," I confirmed. "And the ordinance we're carrying either won't make a scratch or will blow us all up in the process. Got any other ideas?"

"_Grab __the __demo __charges __in __the __buildings __nearby!__"_ Kal'Reegar told me. _"__Use __them __to __clear __a __path!_ _"__They__'__re __coming __in __through __the __side!__"_ he added with another curse. _"__I__'__ve __got __to __fall __back!__"_

"Understood," I replied. "We'll see you soon."

EDI had apparently been monitoring our communications. _"__Shepard, __I __have __scanned __the __area __and __located __the __demolition __charges __the __quarian __commander __mentioned.__"_

"Upload the data to my HUD," I ordered.

"_Done,__"_ EDI said without a pause. _"__You __will __need __both __sets __of __charges __to __clear __the __rubble.__"_

Right. As soon as I've dealt with all the geth that were coming out to greet us.

* * *

><p>There were only two of them at first. One of them was quickly eliminated. The other one cloaked.<p>

In the midst of all the frantic "I can't see it!" "Where'd it go?" and "Lost contact," I could dimly see a flickering shape ripple its way towards us. I grabbed my pistol, cloaked and started shooting. Sure enough, the geth's cloak failed and it reappeared in front of us. Given the processing abilities of the geth, I'm sure it had enough time to give the synthetic equivalent of a gulp before it got shredded.

"How did you know where to shoot?" Miranda asked afterwards.

"I saw the haze around its cloaking field," I shrugged. "Didn't you?"

I got a round of shrugs and shaking heads, coupled with a lot of incredulous looks. Chalk one up to Cerberus and their mad scientist upgrades.

According to the scans EDI uploaded, the closest demo charge was in a garage on the left. Of course, it was heavily guarded. Team Two took cover and fired back while we advanced to a pile of machinery directly outside. Absently swiping a pack of iridium, I cloaked and sniped a geth. Miranda and Kasumi eliminated the shields from two more geth. Grunt, surprisingly, ignored them, choosing to fire at another geth that was coming down a ramp towards us.

Team Two was equally occupied. Garrus was launching EMPs as fast as he could; Jacob and Jack were causing all manners of confusion by levitating any unshielded geth they could see; Zaeed was sniping targets of opportunity and Mordin was merrily firing away with his submachine gun.

Before long, all the geth were down. I motioned for Team Two to watch our backs while Team One searched the garage. We found a few medi-gel packs and a computer with an audio file open. Curious, I hit the play button. To my surprise, it was Tali's voice we heard:

"_We need a core sample to get a timeline on the rate of radiation increase, but our equipment keeps dying on us. Shepard once used a mining laser to clear some rubble back on Therum. Maybe I can do something similar with demolition charges."_

Nice to see she hadn't forgotten all the fun we'd had together, I mused, finally noticing the demo charge. I picked it up and packed it away in a pouch.

It was as if that was some kind of hidden trigger for the geth, who plummeted out of the sky like bombs. A couple troopers...

...and a geth prime.

"Focus on the big one!" I shouted. "And Grunt—don't charge it. Trust me; it's tougher than it looks." Grunt looked skeptical, but didn't go off on a kamikaze run. Satisfied that he wasn't going to do anything crazy, I grabbed my sniper rifle before cloaking. My sniper round landed a second before Garrus's EMP. Miranda and Kasumi were quick to follow, draining the last of its shields. Mordin quickly launched some plasma from his omni-tool. As I added another fireball to the mix, I noted that the others were keeping the remaining geth off our backs. Three geth went down in a hail of bullets, as quick as you please.

Back to the geth prime, who was trying to distract us by spawning a combat drone to throw at us. Like we would be fooled by that. Miranda blasted the last of its armour with her biotics; Kasumi overloaded its weapons and targeting systems with an EMP and I gave it a quick headshot. Scoped and dropped, as Garrus would say. 'Bout time—we'd spent a _lot _of ammo taking that sucker down.

I decided it was our turn to stay put while Team Two leapfrogged ahead. They moved forward and to the left, where the next demo charge could be found. It didn't take long before they started firing. As we headed towards them, I saw a ramp leading up to a catwalk. It increased our exposure to the lethal sun, but it also gave us a superior vantage point to attack the geth. So we sprinted up, trying to limit our exposure as much as possible.

Sure enough, we could see six geth and a geth destroyer, as well as the broken bodies of the geth Team Two had already taken out. "Miranda, Kasumi; zap the destroyer's shields," I ordered. "Grunt, feel free to shoot whatever you like."

It was after those words left my mouth that I realized I could have phrased things a little better. Thankfully, Grunt interpreted my orders the way I had intended, and started firing at convenient targets of opportunity with his assault rifle. I quickly followed suit with my sniper rifle.

Noting that they had lost the advantage of cover, the geth advanced towards other shelter immediately below us, where we couldn't shoot them. By that point, we had already seriously weakened them. Our EMPs and our weapons fire had drained all of their shields, not to mention eliminating two of the geth troopers. Moving forward like that might have blocked our line of sight, but it also exposed them to more weapons fire from Team Two. Within a few minutes, all of the geth had been destroyed.

Since we were up here, I thought I'd scout around. First thing I saw, right next to my hiding spot, was another computer. Tapping the controls, I managed to pull up another of Tali's audio logs:

"_It's next to impossible to get accurate solar measurements. The radiation keeps burning out our equipment. This sun shouldn't be like this. It was stable a few hundred years ago. Stars don't die that quickly."_

Fine. Maybe that was as weird as Tali seemed to think. Maybe that meant something big, on a cosmic scale. Small comfort to everybody who'd died on this rock, though.

Some more scrounging—on the ground, away from that damned sun—yielded some more iridium, some medi-gel, a few power cells and the second demo charge. Now all we had to do was get to the pillar and crack it open.

Once we got past the geth that were dropped out of the sky, of course. Lots of them, including several rocket troopers on the catwalk I just crossed over.

"We're taking too much fire," Garrus yelled.

"If we head to the left or the catwalk above, we can flank them!" Miranda suggested.

Unfortunately, both teams were pinned down. Getting either one to move would be suicide. Thankfully, the geth could only shoot at what they could see. "Kasumi, cloak and head to these coordinates," I ordered, highlighting the desired route with a series of waypoints on her HUD. "Everyone else, hold your ground and wait for us to make our move."

Cloaked, the two of us headed back through a tunnel I spotted earlier and up a ramp to the catwalk. The rocket troopers were still there. Unfortunately, the only way to get any decent shot on them would involve exposing ourselves to the sun. Unless...

"Kasumi," I whispered. "Cloak and sneak up to the closest geth. Once I snipe one of the others, take it out. Then get back here."

"On my way," she said, vanishing in the blink of an eye. I gave her thirty seconds to get into position, then cloaked and leaned out. I lifted my sniper rifle, making a mental note not to accidentally look at the sun through the scope. My shields could regenerate, given enough time. I'm not so sanguine about my eyeballs. Finding a suitable target, I breathed out, refocused and fired.

The trooper's head exploded. A second later, the geth I had designated stiffened as Kasumi sent who knows how much voltage coursing through its circuits. It collapsed just as Kasumi cloaked again. Sure enough, the rocket troopers turned towards their ambushers. They turned back almost immediately, but that was enough time for Miranda and Garrus to knock out their shields. Jack and Jacob lifted them up for Grunt and Zaeed to fire concussive rounds into them. Floating as they were, the impact of those rounds sent them flying through the air. I later found out they landed all the way on the other side of the courtyard, where we'd first entered.

When we got back, I saw some good news and some bad news. The good news was that most of the geth had been eliminated.

The bad news is that the squad were scrambling away from a geth destroyer, who was trying its best to barbeque them with its flamethrower.

"Kasumi?" I asked, lifting my sniper rifle.

"On it."

Kasumi fired an EMP at it while I cloaked. My shot hit its flashlight a second later. Didn't quite kill it, but it was enough for Jack to finish it off.

Once everyone had recovered from the shock of almost getting barbequed, we went to the pillar and set the charges. "This should do it," Miranda approved.

"Have to move quickly," Mordin added, already backing off. "Large impact radius."

He had a point, but the eight second countdown was enough time for us to get out of the way. When the dust settled, we saw the charges had punched a nice neat hole through the pillar, opening the way to the door. Which opened to the other door. Which opened to the aftermath of one heck of a fight.

Dead geth and quarians were lying everywhere. One of them was crawling along the ground. I put it out of its misery with a couple good punches. Then we searched the room. Some of the geth had a few intact components. Nothing unique, but enough to salvage for credits and an assault rifle upgrade.

Miranda was looking at the walls. "Look at this," she exclaimed. "The architectural design definitely predates the geth uprising."

I would have to take her word for it. I would have identified their date of construction simply by the fact that I'd never heard of quarians building anything with stone. Not now, anyway.

"Colony is deep in geth territory," Mordin scratched his head. "Why would quarians come here now?"

Garrus was kneeling by one of the dead quarians. "Whatever they're after, I hope it's worth it," he said grimly.

There were a few more computers and a holo-projector. Scrolling through the computer logs, I found another entry from Tali, one I hadn't heard yet:

"_Our ancestors walked these halls with uncovered heads. The sun must have been normal back then. So much space. Walls of stone... it's amazing. I wish my friends could see it. I wish Shepard were here."_

The phrase "Be careful what you wish for" came to mind. Before I could explore that, I was interrupted by Tali's voice: _"__Tali__'__Zorah __to __base __camp. __Come __in, __base __camp.__"_

It took a second for me to realize Tali's voice was coming from the holo-projectors. Her face was hovering in mid-air. _"__Hello?__Is__anyone__there?__"_

Clearly, the projectors weren't working both ways. Sun damage, no doubt. I reached over and activated the comm. "Tali? It's Shepard."

I couldn't see her face, obviously, but her voice was incredulous. _"__Shepard? __I__'__m __not __complaining, __but __you __show __up __at __the __strangest __times! __What __are __you __doing __in __the __middle __of __geth __space?__"_

"Oh, you know," I replied casually. "I was in the neighbourhood. Got bored. Hadn't blown anything up since yesterday. Thought you might need a hand."

She laughed briefly. Probably the first time in hours that she'd done that. _"__Thanks __for __coming,__Shepard. __It __means __a __lot __to __hear __your __voice.__" _

"What's going on over there?" I asked. "We talked briefly with one of your companions, Kal'Reegar, but that was a while ago."

"_Kal__'__Reegar __and __what__'__s __left __of __the __marines __got __me __into __the __observatory,__"_ she replied. _"From __where __you __are, __it__'__s __through __the __door __and __across __the __field. __I __got __the __data __I __needed __and __I__'__m __safe __for __now, __but __I__'__ve __got __a __lot __of __geth __outside.__"_

"What's this research you're after?" I asked. "I gathered from your logs that it has something to do with the sun?"

"_Yes. It's aging faster than it should. I can tell you more about it once we've got fewer geth shooting at us." _

"They are rude like that," I said dryly. "Would it help if I brought in the Normandy to reprimand them?"

"_Doubtful. These buildings are centuries old. If you bring down heavy fire, this whole place could collapse on us."_

Right. Like the pillar that had sent us on a merry and hazardous detour. Scratch that idea. "Is anyone else still with you or are you alone out there?"

"_Reegar __had __a __team __of __marines __covering __me __when __I __ran __for __the __observatory,__" _Tali replied. _"__At __least __some __of __them __are __still __alive. __I __can __hear __them __firing __at __the __geth __outside.__" _

Miranda waved to get my attention and pointed at the only other door out of here. I immediately realized what she was getting at. "Tali, it looks like somebody sealed the door against the geth, and the adjoining console is damaged. Can you get it open on your end?"

"_Uh, __let __me __see...__"_ Tali's head tilted down for a moment as she accessed whatever computers were on her end. _"__Yes, __I __can __do __it. __Here. __Should __be __unlocked __now.__"_

"We'll see you soon, Tali," I said.

"_Be __careful, __Shepard,__"_ Tali replied. _"__And __please, __do __what __you __can __to __keep __Reegar a__nd __any __of __the __others __alive.__"_

* * *

><p>The geth wouldn't give us a break. We had barely stepped foot outside when a pair of geth recon drones swooped down on us. Miranda and Kasumi overloaded their shields. Apparently that was enough to drop them out of the sky. "There we go," Miranda said with satisfaction.<p>

"Here they come," Zaeed warned in return, gesturing with his assault rifle.

More drones. Great.

We started taking them down, but their presence pretty much drove us back inside. It might not take much to knock them out, but their pulse weapons dealt a surprising amount of damage. As we returned fire, more drones appeared.

Out of thin air.

I wasn't the only one who noticed that. "It looks like the drones are equipped with some sort of optical camouflage system," Miranda observed.

"As long as they stop hiding long enough for us to shoot them," Grunt growled.

Actually, most of them seemed to eschew their cloak in favour for gliding towards us and firing our way. We kept dropping them with EMPs—the squad eventually began timing them to try and take out two at a time whenever possible—and bullets. But they kept coming. It was like the geth had a clearance sale on drones or something. And their weapons were pretty damn effective.

Off in the distance, I spotted a geth walking around. Judging by the size, it was a geth prime. Figures. Probably the one with the great idea to keep lobbing drones at us. I waited until the latest wave of drones was out of the way, then ran towards it. The closest I could get without opening myself up to fire exposed me to the sun, but it was enough for me to get a target lock on it. Using my lock to guide them, the squad launched as many EMPs as they could spare, with a few sniper rounds for good measure. That was enough to knock out its shields.

Speaking of which, I had to get back before _my_shields were toast. I made sure to launch some fire at it before retreating. Just in time, too—more drones had showed up.

We took the drones down and I sprinted forward again. Twin bolts of plasma, a few concussive rounds and three sniper shots reduced its armour to scrap. Now that that was clear, we could start overloading its circuitry. All those internal explosions would destroy enough systems to drop the sucker eventually.

Unfortunately, I had to retreat again as the sun drained my shields. Good thing, mind you. More drones had popped up. So I ordered the squad to engage the drones. Again. While they blew those drones out of the sky, I cloaked, gave the geth prime a headshot and watched with satisfaction as it fell with a thud.

Now that that was out of the way, I led the squad around to the right. There was a bit more cover from the sun that way, not to mention a clear path towards the observatory. We were about a third of the way when...

"Drones!"

Again?

Yep. More drones. So we took them down with... well, you know by now.

You probably also know what was lurking about in the distance.

If you guessed another geth prime, you win... well, bragging rights, I guess.

"Kasumi," I called out. "Think you can cloak and run over there? Get a bead on the geth prime and let us borrow your target lock?"

She shook her head. "My computer doesn't have those targeting protocols."

Figures. I leaned out and took out another drone. "Then it's up to me." Again, I thought sourly.

I sprinted towards the geth prime, clenching my teeth as I ran through a ray of sunlight. Why was it always up to me, I wondered. The potentially suicidal move of mine brought me close enough to lock on the geth prime, allowing the squad to knock out its shields and take a decent chunk of its armour out before I had to retreat from another swarm of drones.

"This is getting real fucking old," Jack spat, shooting a drone out of the sky.

"Indeed," Garrus grunted, having strayed a bit too far out of cover in his efforts to short circuit a pair of drones.

Within a minute, the latest batch of drones was gone. I sprinted forward again, trusting the others to watch my back. As soon as I was within range to lock on to the geth prime again, we hammered it with fireballs and sniper rounds. I ducked for cover as it returned fire, then leaned out to fire another round. That took care of its armour. Three EMPs crackled over it in quick succession. I was just about to deliver the kill shot when—

Yes. More damn drones.

We took them out, dropped the geth prime, then took out another swarm of drones. After that, we reached a small room, whose window shutters and doors were sealed thanks to a security lockdown issued from a nearby console. I quickly overrode the lockdown.

The shutters hissed open, offering us a nice view of another courtyard, with various ramps snaking along the walls and a building—presumably, the observatory—at the far end. We glimpsed all that for a second before something loomed into view.

Aw, crap.

It was a geth. A big one. One of those guys I used to hop-and-shoot against in the Mako back in the day.

Only we had no Mako this time.

"Colossus," Mordin identified with some alarm. "Problematic."

No shit.

The colossus bunched its legs together. I remembered what that signalled: "Get down!"

We hit the floor just before the siege pulse impacted against the walls. Miraculously, they held, though a lot of dust had been stirred up. Garrus coughed. "_Definitely_ like old times," he sighed.

Now that the door was open, we ran out and down a ramp. We saw a quarian in a red hardsuit huddled against a pillar. "Over here!" he yelled. "Get to cover!"

Sage advice. We followed it. He got up—with some stiffness, I noted—and fired a rocket before ducking back down. "Squad Leader Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines," he identified himself. "I'm guessing you're the one I talked to on the radio before that dropship arrived."

"Yeah, that's me," I nodded. "Commander Shepard. Good to finally meet you."

"Likewise. Still got no idea why you're here, but this ain't the time to be picky," he said. We flinched as another siege pulse from the colossus slammed against the pillar. "Tali's inside over there," he continued, tilting his head towards the observatory we saw earlier. "The geth killed the rest of my squad and they're trying to get to her. Best I've been able to do is draw their attention."

I tried to take a peek, but the geth infantry supporting the colossus kept driving me back down with weapons fire. Finally I gave up.

"Are you sure she's still alive?" I shouted over the impact of another siege pulse.

"The observatory is reinforced," he replied. "Even the geth will need time to get through it." He took a moment to chuckle. "And it's hard to hack a door when someone's firing rockets at you."

I gave a chuckle of my own. "Yeah, that's pretty distracting. What's the situation like?"

"The geth are near platoon strength," Kal'Reegar reported, "but the colossus is the worst part. It's got a repair protocol. Keeps huddling up and fixing itself."

Aw, crap.

"I can't get a clear shot while it's down like that. I tried to move in closer, but one of those bastards punched a shot clean through my suit."

Uh oh. For most people, that could slow them down. For quarians, it was much more serious. "How bad is your suit damage?"

Kal'Reegar knew what I was getting at. Or he just gave the answer he'd give to any other quarian. "Combat seals clamped down to isolate contamination and I'm swimming in antibiotics," he reassured me. "The geth might get me, but I'm not gonna die from an infection in the middle of a battle. That's just _insulting_."

Yep. Definitely liked this guy.

"What can you tell me about the battlefield?" I asked.

"The right side's got a catwalk with a sniper perch."

Ooh.

"You could wreak some havoc from there, but none of my men made it past the geth."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Geth are tough. But the _sniper __perch_... **(3)**

"The middle's got cover, but the damn colossus has a clear shot at you the whole time, and you've got geth coming in from both sides."

I'll pass, thanks.

"The left gives you some cover from the colossus, but your ass is hanging out for the geth. That's how I got shot."

And that shoots down Option Number Three. Guess we were going down the right. It's nice to have an excuse to do what you want. "Any ideas on how to deal with the colossus?" I hollered over the gunshots.

"Standard protocol with armature-class units is to sabotage the shields and whittle it down. You know, kill it with bug bites."

Death by a thousand cuts. Nice and safe. I liked that.

"But the repair protocol blows that plan to hell. You try to wear it down, it just huddles up and fixes itself."

That I didn't like.

"So whatever we do has to scrap that bastard fast. Probably means getting up close, past that cover."

Thankfully I'd lugged something along that might help with the scrapping. Good thing, too—it was heavy running around with it on my back.

"Got any ideas?" I shouted.

"Just one," Kal'Reegar said cheerfully, slapping his weapon. "I'm not moving so well, but I can still pull a trigger, and I've got a rocket launcher that the sun hasn't fried yet. You move in close. I'll keep the colossus busy, maybe even drop its shields. With luck, you'll be able to finish it off."

I shook my head. "You've done enough, Reegar. You don't need to throw your life away."

"Wasn't asking your permission," he replied. "My job is to keep Tali safe." He forced himself to his feet and lifted the rocket launcher. "This is our best shot."

I quickly jumped to my feet and pulled him behind the pillar. "Don't be fooled by the numbers I brought with me—we don't have enough people on our side for you to take one for the team! Stand down!"

Kal'Reegar disagreed, but at least he crouched back down while we continued our debate. "I'm not going to stand there while you run into enemy fire!" he snapped. "They killed my whole squad!"

Understandable, but I had other plans. Plans that would keep his ass—and mine—in one piece. "And if you want to honour your squad, watch our back!" I said. "I'll leave half the squad here, but I need you to stay with them in case the geth bring reinforcements! Especially the kind that need more firepower than pistols and assault rifles!"

He considered that for a moment, then let out a frustrated grunt. "All right, Shepard. We'll do it your way. Hit 'em for me. Keelah se'lai!"

To get to the right side, we had to go down a ramp into the courtyard and up another ramp to a catwalk. That would be considerably easier—and safer—without the troopers storming in, so we had to deal with them first. Then I led Team One to the catwalk while Team Two stayed to cover us.

We had to drop another geth trooper that was guarding the catwalk before we could huddle behind some crates and I could lay out my plan: "We need to drain as much of the shields as possible from that colossus." I reached behind me and slapped the heavy weapon I had chosen for this mission. "Then I can let this baby loose."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "You just had to try it out."

"You have to admit, if I had brought it last time, that Praetorian would have been much easier to deal with," I rebutted.

"If you had brought it last time, it would have been destroyed before you had a chance to deploy it," Miranda reminded me.

She was right, of course. "Well, second time's the charm," I shrugged.

Grunt grinned. "This should be good."

There were another geth close by, so Kasumi and Grunt dealt with it. Unfortunately, that seemed to draw a few more geth our way. Several troopers, plus a destroyer. I remembered how the last one had a flamethrower and an awfully itchy trigger finger. "Take out the destroyer first!" I advised, draining most of its shields with my sniper rifle.

The destroyer went down quickly. Miranda timed things to zap out the shields of two troopers a second later. Grunt followed suit with an equally well-timed concussive round that damaged one trooper and sent it flying back to knock out two more. By the time those three got back to their feet, Kasumi was ready with an EMP, which she dropped on them.

Taking a quick glance to see that the coast was clear, we sprinted to the edge of the catwalk. We had to duck a lot, but we eventually made it. From there, we had a clear shot at the colossus. Two EMPs and a lot of gunfire took the shields to half strength, while Grunt covered our rear. That was about enough, I judged, and I exchanged my sniper rifle for the heavy weapon I'd brought along.

You see, after studying enough heavy weapons and the power cells that kept them going, the men and women on the Normandy had finally figured out how to accelerate a 25-gram slug to five kilometres per second and how to build a gun that could do that without shattering or blowing up in your face. That might not sound like much at first, especially given the fact that it cost 25 000 units of iridium to construct... unless you factor in the fact that the resulting explosion was equivalent to a tactical nuke. And I could carry it on my back without falling over. Technically it had been designated the M-920 Cain. Jacob and I had given it a new name as soon as it popped out of the Normandy's fabricators.

Grinning to myself, I cloaked, stood up and aimed the Nuke Launcher. It took a while to charge up and fire, by which point my cloak had shut down, but the results were spectacular and satisfying—and not just because this was the first time I'd seen a mushroom cloud outside of historical vids.

Kal'Reegar let out a loud whoop as the Colossus was obliterated in the nuclear firestorm. "Nice job," he called out. "Now get to Tali!" **(4)**

"Right." I opened the comm channel. "Tali? The geth are gone."

"_Just __a __second,__" _she replied. _"__I __locked __the __door __to __keep __more __geth __from __getting __inside. __There,__" _she said after a pause, _"__that __should __do __it.__"_

"Reegar?" I yelled.

"Go right ahead," he yelled back. "I'll be just a minute."

"Take your time," I laughed, checking my HUD. "Looks like we're in the clear."

Famous last words, I know. But for once they were true. We were free to wander around and take whatever iridium or thermal clips we wanted, with only the sun to get in our way. I also found a couple power cells, which I happily snatched up. The Nuke Launcher had lived up to its name and promise, but it was a greedy bugger. I knew the power requirements were so high that I could only use it once—so I couldn't waste it trying to nuke a mere trooper—but the damn thing had drained two-thirds of my power cells. **(5)**

Once I was satisfied, I led the squad into the observatory. Jacob immediately homed in on a geth assault rifle and started playing around with it. He seemed fascinated with the way it worked. Something about sine curves and firing ratios that would be ideal for knocking out shields and barriers. Whatever. I immediately homed in on a broken geth that seemed to be worth salvaging. Something about salvage and loot and more credits to line my virtual wallet. Whatever.

The squad waited patiently until Jacob and I were done. Tali had finished downloading the data she'd collected and was waiting with them, her body posture speaking volumes about her familiarity with my habits. Yes, habits. Much better than addictions. Because it's not. An addiction, that is. I can stop whenever I want. Really.

I'm getting off track, aren't I?

"Thank you, Shepard," Tali said, turning around. "If not for you, I would never have—Garrus, what happened to you?"

I looked at Garrus. He still looked more or less the same. Blue hardsuit, visor, scars—oh yeah. "Garrus decided to block a rocket with his face," I told Tali.

"He _WHAT_?"

"To be fair, he was fending off three merc groups with nothing more than a sniper rifle," I explained. "And then we showed up and turned the odds in our favour. After that, I guess he wanted a challenge. Though maybe he should've done it a bit more gradually. You know: start by deflecting a pistol shot, then a shotgun. Work his way up to a grenade before trying to deflect a gunship rocket."

"I told you," Garrus said patiently, playing along for kicks. "I was trying to give you a shot at all the girls."

"And look how well that worked out," I retorted. "They keep trying to shoot me!"

"Maybe it was something you said," Garrus suggested.

"I didn't say anything!"

"That's the problem. Don't you know how important it is to make a good first impression?"

Tali was shaking her head. "At least some things haven't changed. Thank you again, all of you. I wouldn't have made it out alive without your help."

"You're welcome," I replied, "but I'm sure you would have figured something out."

She sighed. "This whole mission has been a disaster. I wish I'd joined you back on Freedom's Progress, but I couldn't let anyone take my place on something this risky."

"Now that we have a moment, what can you tell me about your research here?" I asked.

Tali brought up an image of the sun on her omni-tool. "Haestrom's sun is destabilizing. Back when this was a quarian colony, it was a normal star. There were indications that it was getting close, but it shouldn't change that quickly."

"Any idea what's destabilizing the sun?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say that it was dark energy affecting the interior of the star," she shrugged. "The effect is similar to when stars blow off mass to enter a red giant phase, but Haestrom's sun is far too young for this to be natural."

So the sun research wasn't a cover or anything. It really was the _only_reason Tali and the others were here. "A lot of quarians lost their lives here," I pointed out. "Was it worth it?"

Tali spread her hands helplessly. "I don't know, Shepard. It wasn't my call. The Admiralty Board believed the information here was worth sacrificing all our lives for. I have to believe that they know what's best."

I've been in her shoes before and gave that exact response to all the higher-ups who ever reviewed and second-guessed how I carried out my missions. Amongst the men and women who fought and suffered, however, we were more frank. That's what I was looking for here. "I didn't ask what some admiral thought. I asked what _you_thought."

Equal parts grief and anger fuelled her reply: "A lot of people died here. Some of them were my friends. All of them were good at their jobs. That damn data better be worth it. The price was too high."

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad I could help," I told her. "Once you deliver that data, my offer still stands. I could use you on the Normandy."

"I promised to see this mission through. I did. I can leave with you and send the data to the Fleet."

Inside, I did a little happy dance.

"And if the admirals have a problem with it, they can go to hell," she spat. "I just watched the rest of my team die."

"Maybe not the whole rest of your team, ma'am."

It was Kal'Reegar. He'd finally made it.

"Reegar!" she said in relief. "You made it!"

"Your old captain's as good as you said," he replied, limping up to her. "Damn colossus never stood a chance."

I thank the big gun I brought with me, but I'll take whatever accolades I can get. "If need be, the Normandy can get you out of here, Reegar," I told him.

He shook his head. "The geth didn't damage our ship. Long as Tali and I get out of here before reinforcements show up, we'll be fine."

"Actually, I won't be going with you," Tali corrected. "I'm joining Commander Shepard."

Reegar took that news in stride. "I'll pass the data to the Admiralty Board and let them know what happened," he promised. "She's all yours now, Shepard. Keep her safe."

* * *

><p>As was our habit with all the new recruits, Miranda, Garrus, Jacob and I met with Tali in the comm room. Given the strained circumstances in which Miranda and Tali... interacted on Freedom's Progress, I thought it would be safer for Garrus or Jacob to do most of the talking. Well, all of the talking, if possible. I said as much to Miranda. She took it well, all things considered.<p>

"Cerberus saw footage of you in action, Tali'Zorah," Jacob started. "We're looking forward to having you on the team. Your engineering expertise will really benefit the mission."

"I don't know who you are," Tali replied coldly, "but Cerberus threatened the security of the Migrant Fleet. Don't make nice."

Guess her earlier gratitude over Miranda and Jacob helping to save her butt had worn off. Garrus hastily made the introductions. "Jacob Taylor, armoury chief. Miranda Lawson is the executive officer and second-in-command here. And after chasing Saren around the galaxy, I hope you know me and Shepard."

"Nobody's saying you have to like them, Tali, but we're on the same side this time," I added.

"Miranda and I weren't part of what happened to the Migrant Fleet, but we understand your distrust," Jacob tried again. "I hope we'll get past that as we work together."

Tali ignored him and turned towards me. "I assumed that you were undercover, Shepard. Maybe even planning to blow Cerberus up. If that's the case, I'll loan you a grenade. Otherwise, I'm here for you. Not for them."

That was more reassuring than she knew. Or maybe she did know. Regardless, that was good enough for me.

"If it helps, check out the Normandy," I offered. "She's quite a beauty and we've gotten quite a few upgrades."

"I'll get Tali'Zorah the necessary security clearance to access our systems," Miranda said, speaking up for the first time. Technically, that wasn't what we had agreed to earlier, but I never actually ordered her to be quiet. Besides, that did fall under her purview as XO.

"Please do," Tali said coolly. "I can't be part of your team if I don't know how the ship works."

OK, things were getting frosty here. Time to wrap things up before she made good on her promise about grenades. Garrus thought the same. "Why don't I give you a tour?" he suggested.

Tali accepted his offer with a nod and moved to join him. As she passed me, she paused to add "Remember, Shepard, these people thought enslaving Thorian creepers and rachni was a good idea."

Then she and Garrus headed for the door. "Shepard, I'll be in Engineering if you need me," she called over her shoulder.

Undaunted, Jacob tried one more time. "Don't forget to introduce yourself to EDI, the ship's new artificial intelligence."

Aw, crap.

Tali came to an abrupt halt. She turned back and stared at Jacob for a minute. Garrus reached back, grabbed her and hastily dragged her out of the room.

Jacob turned and looked at me and Miranda in confusion. "Was it something I said?"

Oh for crying out loud.

"Jacob," Miranda said patiently. "How did the geth evolve to their present form?"

To his credit, Jacob didn't need her to spell it out any more. He shook his head and started cursing. Miranda exchanged a look with me—which I swear contained a mixture of resignation and amusement—before gently escorting Jacob back to the armoury.

Later on, I dropped by engineering. Judging by the conversation I overheard, the engineers had collectively appointed Tali as Chief Engineer.

"So Gabby, what do you think of our new quarian boss?" Ken asked out loud.

"Shh! She's right over there," she hissed, nodding to the left.

"Ah, she can't hear us with her head in that bucket," Ken dismissed. "Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful bucket. The whole suit is lovely. Quite snug in all the right places."

"You know I can hear you," Tali interrupted.

Gabby laughed. So did I. If that was any indication, she'd be just fine. Just to check, I walked over to her after saying my hellos to Ken and Gabby.

"Shepard," she greeted me. "What can I do for you?"

"How's the Normandy running?" I asked.

"Say what you will about Cerberus, they know how to build ships," she admitted. "The Normandy's running even better than before. Most of the problems I remember tackling with Adams on the old Normandy have been resolved, though I don't know if it can stand up to a Collector attack. I'm researching some ideas that might help."

"So she isn't giving you any trouble?" I prodded.

Her body posture answered me before she even spoke. "Please, Shepard. I'm a quarian. Give me a chunk of scrap metal, a circuit board and some element zero, and I'll have it making precision jumps."

"Careful," I warned. "I just might ask you to do that one day."

She laughed briefly before getting to what I was really asking. "I was worried about working with Cerberus engineers, but they know what they're doing and they've been very polite."

"That's good to hear," I nodded. "So do you have time to talk?"

She looked around, then led me to the power core room. Between the privacy and the various EM fields dancing around, we wouldn't be overheard. Unless someone could read lips—the power core extended through most of the decks, with windows on every level looking out into the room. Strange design feature, though I had to admit the power core was an impressive sight.

"We didn't really have time to chat while taking out geth on Haestrom, did we?" she said.

"Probably because geth appreciate small talk like we do," I responded.

This time, my joke didn't elicit a response. Fair enough, I thought.

"Thank you again for getting Reegar out alive."

"He seems like a good man," I replied. "Have you heard any word about him? Did he survive his injuries?"

"He sent me a message," she confirmed. "It looks like he'll make a full recovery."

"That's good," I said.

"Any time you get a suit puncture, it's a matter of luck. Reegar got out with a relatively minor infection. That's practically a miracle considering what..."

She broke off for a moment before continuing. "I can't believe so many people died. All for data about stars blowing up. I hope the Admiralty Board gets some use out of it."

"So you haven't received any word back on the data you sent?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm not likely to hear anything for a while. Or on an unsecured channel, for that matter."

Yeah, with Cerberus and EDI looking over everyone's shoulder, trying to send or receive anything that didn't compromise the integrity of the Migrant Fleet would be tricky. I wasn't surprised that she hadn't had time yet to set things up.

"Having any trouble settling back in on the Normandy?" I moved on. "I remember how you had trouble adjusting to the silence when you first joined us."

"I like the quiet now," she said. "I miss the old faces, though. Pressly, Adams, all of them."

"Same here," I agreed. "Though there's Garrus and Dr. Chakwas and Joker, so there are some familiar faces around here."

"It doesn't seem right having Cerberus in charge of this ship," she told me. "Are you sure working for them is the right thing to do?"

I evaded that with another question. "About that: I caught some tension back on Freedom's Progress and again when you came aboard. What happened between Cerberus and the quarians?"

"They attacked one of our ships, the Idenna," she replied. "It seems they were attempting to kill or control a young human biotic who was on the Fleet. I don't really know the details. **(6)** I do know that Cerberus made an enemy of the quarian people."

And thus an enemy of Tali'Zorah nar... vas... well, whatever her name was now. **(7)**

"But you never answered my question." Clearly, Tali wasn't about to let me off the hook.

"I'm not working _for _them; I'm working _with_them," I clarified. "Not that I like that anymore than you do. But we need them."

"I know. Just watch yourself," she warned me. "You're their best weapon right now. But as soon as you no longer serve their needs, be ready for them to turn on you."

"The thought had crossed my mind," I said dryly.

"Good," she approved. "For now, I should get back to work. Thanks for coming by."

* * *

><p>When I got back to the CIC, there was a message from the Admiralty Board waiting for me. It read as follows:<p>

_From: Admiralty Board, Migrant Fleet_

_Commander Shepard,_

_Per Tali'Zorah vas Neema's request included with her data delivery from Haestrom, the Admiralty Board has approved her transfer to your command. She has been informed that additional duties to the Migrant Fleet may still be necessary on occasion, but has been given extended leeway to determine when her mission with you is considered complete._

_This choice was hers, but your role as de facto captain during her Pilgrimage may have caused her to be more susceptible to your requests. The Admiralty Board trusts that you will treat your new crew member with the respect due an honored member of the Fleet. Should any harm come to her due to negligence on your part, this board will take severe and appropriate action._

_Admiral Rael'Zorah, _

_Migrant Fleet Admiralty Board_

Translation: You may be a bad influence on Tali. She's the crown jewel of my eye and you will treat her as such. If anything happens to her, Daddy will be seriously pissed.

Good to know.

* * *

><p><em>(1): A quarian phrase, likely a benediction or religious oath. Similar human phrases might include Allāhu Akbar (Islamic for 'God is Greatest'), Deus Vult (Latin for 'God Wills It'), or Baruch Atta Adona (Hebraic for 'Blessed are you, God'). <em>

_(2): Shepard was peering through the scope on his sniper rifle, which had a built-in range finder._

_(3): I admit that Shepard picked a strange time to obsess over that fact. _

_(4): Impressive, even by Shepard's standards. _

_(5): When I received Shepard's data burst containing this particular log, I sent an encrypted reply requesting the specs for this weapon. His reply contained little in the way of technical information, but included an exhaustive breakdown of the costs required to manufacture, supply and operate this weapon, along with the clear implication that the Alliance couldn't afford it. Putting aside Shepard's obvious desire to keep as many aces as possible up his sleeve, he was probably right. _

_(6): A former acquaintance of mine at the time, Kahlee Sanders, was working at the Ascension Project, an Alliance initiative to train biotics in their powers and educate them on how to integrate with the galactic community. Unbeknownst to her, Cerberus had an interest in one of the pupils, an autistic girl named Gillian Grayson. After a botched attack by a Cerberus operative, she and a colleague took Ms. Grayson on the run, along with her father, in an attempt to escape Cerberus in the Terminus Systems. While they were caught, they were eventually rescued by a young quarian on his Pilgrimage. Recognizing her as a researcher at the former base on Sidon, which was duped into doing early research into Sovereign, he offered them sanctuary in exchange for any insights she could provide into how Saren—and Sovereign—controlled the geth. Unfortunately, Cerberus was able to follow them by acquiring access codes from an injured—and delirious—quarian, and attacked the crew of the Idenna. _

_(7): Following the successful completion of her Pilgrimage, Tali'Zorah was accepted by the captain of the Neema. As per quarian tradition, her name would have changed from Tali'Zorah nar Rayya (literally, 'Tali'Zorah, child of the Rayya') to Tali'Zorah vas Neema ('crew of the Neema'). _


	16. Personnel Report: Jacob Taylor

_Editorial Note: This personnel report focuses on Shepard's thoughts of his armoury officer, Jacob Taylor, and his efforts to help him with a rather personal mission. _

**Personnel Report—Jacob Taylor**

Jacob's the only one who ever saluted me.

Okay, maybe there were one or two people who stood to attention. It's not like they had to—this wasn't an Alliance vessel, after all. But Jacob almost always saluted me, either at the start or an end of any conversation. Or both. You can imagine how often that came up in the local scuttlebutt. That and how he joined Cerberus in the first place.

I suppose that was why I really went to see him one day—to satisfy my curiosity. Jacob saluted me when I entered the armoury. "Something I can do for you, Commander?"

"I'd like to talk a bit, if you have the time," I replied.

For once, Jacob was game for a bit of chatting. "Sounds good. Have to say, you run this ship tight, and we're getting things done. We keep on track and maybe we'll figure this out."

"Maybe?" I grinned.

"I hope so," Jacob amended. "I'm not looking forward to the debrief if it all goes to hell. Is there something specific you wanted to know about or are you just checking in?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his formality. "I like to know my crew. Screw procedure. Tell me about yourself."

"Informal, huh?" Jacob noted. "Everything's in my file. Ex-Alliance, like you. No Reapers or anything, but I got swept under the rug, too. The more good you do, the less they want to admit that something needed doing."

"About that: I understand you made quite an impact after you left the Alliance. Why did you leave anyway?"

"The Alliance sidelined me after Eden Prime. Miranda and I stopped a batarian plan to release a biological agent on the Citadel. That's when I first met her. It took us out to the Nemean Abyss and back. Saved the Citadel and the Council, like you, but what's the saying? A good deed's like pissing yourself in dark pants? Warm feeling, but no one notices."

That was true. Which was why I liked dark pants.

"The whole thing was hushed up, like they're good at doing, but I know what I did and I'm proud of it. Cerberus treated that job like an audition, and here I am."

"Too bad something like that didn't get reported," I commiserated.

"The real work doesn't get publicized," he shrugged. "You know that. They say it's better that people don't know how fragile the system is or how close the bad guys can get. So they make things so they never happened. Like you and the Reapers."

"True, but it's still a bit odd that you wound up with Cerberus. You don't seem like a 'results at all costs' kind of guy," I noted.

"Way I see it, the Alliance is all politics," Jacob scowled. "Too busy worrying about public opinion to get the job done. Somebody has to take down the bad guys. If that somebody is Cerberus, and they don't lose sight of that, I'm on their side."

"Not everyone can stand behind his decisions and convictions," I said. "You make no apologies for doing what you had to. I admire that."

"I couldn't go back to the Alliance," Jacob replied, "not after the cover-up. They did the same to you. General public never knew you were dead or heard the real story of the Citadel."

They still don't.

He grinned. "Did youknow they used you on recruitment ads? You were the human ideal for like six months."

Oh boy. No wonder the universe is in such bad shape. **(1)**

"Then they replaced you with a composite image they invented. Guess you didn't focus test right. You were actually the Alliance poster boy and they still dumped you."

I gave him a slight smile. "We'll rub it in their faces when we save their hides. Again."

"Sounds good," Jacob nodded. "We'll add that to the list of reasons to make it out alive. Besides not wanting to die."

"Again," I added.

Jacob laughed. "Fair enough. I should get back to work. Good talking to you, Shepard."

* * *

><p>That was probably one of the few times I had a chance to see Jacob relax and talk to me. He generally didn't like me coming down and 'forcing conversations.' Personally, I suspect he never got used to the idea of senior officers regularly dropping by and chatting with subordinates. <strong>(2) <strong>

I still made a point of dropping by anyway, just to be annoying. Which was why I noticed something was off one day. It had been shortly after the Horizon mission, so I thought he might have been shaken or something.

"Jacob?" I asked. I had to repeat myself a couple times before he heard me.

"Commander? Sorry, I'm a little unfocused."

"Everything all right?" I asked. "This have something to do with Horizon?"

"No, nothing like that. Personal matter," he waved me off. "It won't affect my duties."

I leaned back against one of the tables. "I always have time for my crew. What's on your mind?"

"As I said, it's a personal matter. I don't want to waste our time if it turns out to be a wild goose chase."

"But..." I prompted.

He walked over to the table and stood there for a moment, gripping the sides. "Well, I got pinged by a ghost the other night," he finally said. "Family."

"I'm listening."

"My private log got an update about the Hugo Gernsback, the ship my father served on. It sent an SOS last week, reporting a crash and requesting a rescue."

"And that's akin to getting a collect call from a ghost because..."

"Shepard, that ship went missing _ten years_ ago," Jacob explained, running a hand over his head. "I hadn't talked to my father for three years before that. I've buried everything but a body. I'm not convinced it isn't just some automated distress signal ticking over. It's been too long."

He was clearly confused, but remained calm and composed. Remarkably so, I thought. I mean, if I found out that _my _dad was still alive, I'd be a mess. **(3)** "I'd think you'd be more excited that your father might be alive," I said.

"He wasn't around enough for me to have bad memories."

"You didn't get along with your father?" I guessed.

"He made no apologies, I'll give him that. You make a mistake, you own up to it, even if you keep making it. Whatever problems we had were a lifetime ago. It's an old, well-healed wound. I mean, as far as I know, he's still a ghost."

I waited for the inevitable 'but.'

"But if he's actually alive and needs help..."

It's as if I'm psychic or something. "Pretty big 'what if,'" I nodded.

"You could say that," he agreed. "I also want to note that it's not normal procedures for distress calls to be routed to the Normandy. This was passed to my personal log through Cerberus filters."

"Any signs that this was a Cerberus front?" I asked. "Who passed this to you?"

"I doubt the Illusive Man would let a direct operation stay cold this long," he frowned. "If there's a link, it's probably just about money. Cerberus needs diverse holdings to fund projects like, well, you. And whoever sent this my way covered their tracks. Someone could be fishing for favours. Or thought it would get under my skin. Who knows with that bunch?"

"Tell me about the Hugo Gernsback and what it was doing."

"Privately held frigate," Jacob replied. "I looked over the mission brief when it disappeared. Nothing stood out. Typical research and grab operation. Find an uncharted planet, stake a claim, and establish as large a presence as you can as fast as possible to shut out competitors." **(4)**

"I think we can spare the time," I decided. "Pass the coordinates to Joker."

"I appreciate that, Commander," Jacob smiled. "I don't expect more than dusty old bones, but it'll be good to close the record."

* * *

><p>There really wasn't any need to bring the entire squad with us, so I just brought half. Jacob, because it was his dad who may or may not be alive. Me, because my curiosity knows no bounds. Miranda, to back up a fellow Cerberus member and make sure I wasn't a bad influence on him. Zaeed, because he needed to get off the ship. And Kasumi, who had been entertaining herself by bugging him for the past couple hours—which was the reason Zaeed needed to get off the ship.<p>

I smiled when Zaeed and Kasumi gave me their reasons for coming along and looked down—she really was petite—at her. "Always good to have a little help."

Kasumi looked up at me and realized what I was doing. "One more short joke and I'll punch your lights out," she threatened.

"Kasumi, petty violence is beneath you," I scolded her. "Which is kinda saying something."

"Keep it up, Shep," she scowled. "I'm always going to be taller than you once you're lying unconscious on the ground."

"You're right," I admitted with a straight face. "That was a low blow. I'll try to rise above it."

Kasumi made a fist—a tiny one—and showed it to me. "Pow, Shep. Right to the kisser."

"Why couldn't she have bugged you?" Zaeed asked plaintively.

By that point, we'd reached the shuttle. We lifted off and flew down to the planet Aeia—officially designated as 2175 Aeia. Alliance probes had pegged this world as suitable for colonization due to the lush vegetation, fresh water and breathable air detected. Apparently, that was why the Hugo Gernsback had been dispatched here in the first place.

The shuttle touched down on a beach, about a hundred metres from the wreckage of the Hugo Gernsback. _"I have run a scan of the ship,"_ EDI reported, as we disembarked. _"I detect no life signs, but there may be useful technology or information still inside."_

"Good to know," I replied. "The shuttle's heading back to the Normandy on autopilot. Tell Garrus to get the rest of the squad ready in case we need them to fly back down and back us up."

"Understood, Shepard."

"It's mostly intact," Jacob noted. "So the crew could have survived impact..."

"Don't get your hopes up, kid," Zaeed snorted. "It's been years since the crash, remember?"

As we got closer, we saw that there were a lot of holes and gaps. Not all of them were from the crash, based on the lack of scorch marks and the wires hanging out.

"Looks like it was stripped after the crash," Jacob observed. "They'd have tried to get a beacon up as soon as possible."

There was a VI nearby, standing motionless. Probably attached to the distress beacon. Before I checked it out, I wanted to search the wreckage. We managed to scavenge a few items here and there. The interesting things were all the log entries made by the survivors. Most of it had been degraded beyond repair, but we did manage to retrieve a few fragments:

"_...along with this anymore. We've done horrible things to the crew. The condition they're in, they don't understand what we're doing to them. Distract them for two seconds and they forget what you did before the bruises show. It's got to stop. I'm talking to the others as soon as—"_

That didn't sound good. Sounded like there was some kind of abuse after the crash

"_...always said no. She even threatened a report if I didn't stop sending messages. But now she's no innocent. They all are. And that look she gives when she smiles..."_

That didn't sound good either. I double-checked my weapons to make sure they were loaded.

"_...crash you can't expect the luxury of due process, but this isn't a military ship. Just bumping the command line up a notch doesn't work. Captain Fairchild knew this crew. His replacement doesn't command the same level of respect. I hope the man has it in him, but I doubt—"_

So there was some kind of breakdown in authority? Or maybe the chain of command put people in charge who weren't ready?

"_What... what was her name. Sarah? S-Suzanne? My god, I can't remember... I can't remember her face! We need to get out... so I can remember, can think straight. They have to hurry."_

This was definitely creepier than the standard search and rescue.

I left the wreckage and wandered over to the VI. Because I'd looted everything I could. Not because these recordings were freaking me out. Really.

Yeah, I didn't buy that either.

"Repeat. Toxicology Alert," the VI recited. "Danger of rapid neural decay. Local flora chemically incompatible with human physiology."

And now the puzzle was starting to fit together.

I did a quick diagnostic on the beacon. "From the look of it, this thing's been here awhile," I reported. "Why would they wait years to signal?"

The VI thought I was talking to it, so it immediately responded. _"Pause in beacon protocol eight years, 237 days, seven hours. Pause is recorded as RECORD DELETED by Acting Captain Ronald Taylor."_

"That's not right," Jacob muttered. "My father was first officer."

_"Ronald Taylor was promoted under emergency command protocols," _the VI explained._ "Other flagged issues: Unsafe deceleration. Local food and neural decay. Beacon activation protocols."_

"What happened to the original captain?" I asked. "Where are the survivors?"

_"Captain Harris Fairchild reported killed following unscheduled suborbital descent,"_ the VI responded. _"First Officer Ronald Taylor promoted in field to acting captain."_

"But where is he now?" Jacob burst out in frustration.

_"The location of the remaining crew of the Hugo Gernsback is unknown,"_ the VI replied. "_This beacon has been left unattended for several maintenance cycles."_

"I assume 'unsafe deceleration' refers to the crash?" I said. "Give me the details."

_"Following an unspecified impact and sublight drive failure, the Hugo Gernsback made an unscheduled descent at 465% of theoretical recommended sub-orbital velocity. The Hugo Gernsback then decelerated at 782% of theoretical recommended approach velocity, sustaining significant damage to investment and crew."_

My next question wasn't really relevant, but I couldn't help asking anyway: "Why are you comparing the crash to theoretical speeds?"

_"The Hugo Gernsback was constructed off-world. It is not rated for suborbital descent, and doing so exceeded operational parameters."_

Ah, VIs and their literal programming. Sometimes you gotta love 'em. "You mentioned something about the local food impairing brain functions," I prompted. "What are the effects?"

_"Impairment of mental function due to chemical imbalance begins within seven days of ingesting local flora, regardless of decontamination or preparation. Impact on higher cognitive abilities and long-term memory is cumulative, but significant within a standard month. It is not known if neural decay is permanent. Data collection was not completed."_

This was getting worse and worse. It sounded like some of the crew ate the local vegetation and started losing their faculties—and other crew members did nothing to stop it. Including Jacob's dad, who'd been forced to assume command whether he was ready for the responsibility or not. Did that have anything to do with the beacon? "Why wasn't the beacon activated before now?" I asked.

_"The emergency beacon became functional after 358 days, 12 hours, following the unscheduled suborbital descent of the Hugo Gernsback. Activation was triggered remotely after eight years, 237 days, seven hours, on the authority of acting captain Ronald Taylor. Pause in beacon protocol is recorded as: RECORD DELETED."_

"So the beacon was fixed after a year," I summarized.

"But my father didn't signal for almost nine," Jacob finished. "Maybe that neural decay affected him."

"Perhaps," Miranda frowned, "Avoiding it for a decade does seem... unlikely."

"After this long, he's probably chewing the walls," Zaeed agreed.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get going."

The path led us to a ton of barrels arranged in rows. Almost like someone was trying to set up cover against enemies. We all pulled out our weapons and slowly approached.

The first person to pop out wasn't a threat, though. She was dressed in the clothes of a typical crewmate on a freighter, though they were pretty dirty. "You came?" she exclaimed. "From the sky? The leader said someone would come! He delayed for so long, but he still has power!"

The hell?

"Some have lost faith," she babbled on. "The hunters! They will have seen your star. They will not let you help him."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "You're not making sense." I belatedly realized that it's hard to make sense after your brain turns to mush.

The woman didn't seem to notice, concentrating on something else all together. "I—I, uh... I don't remember how to say it. He's our leader, and we serve so... we can go home," she stumbled, carefully saying her words like she was trying to remember them. Which she probably was. "But some want to fight him. They were—they were cast out."

I didn't really like what I was hearing. True, her cognitive abilities had clearly been impaired, but her words brought things to a whole new level of disturbing. I also didn't like the guys I saw ten or twenty metres behind her—mostly because they were clearly trying to be sneaky.

"He exiled them, so they hunt his machines and those who help him," she continued, oblivious to the approaching threat. "They don't believe that rescue will—"

"Watch out," I barked, as one of the sneaky guys lifted a pistol. I dove at her and knocked her over. The others quickly scattered for cover.

"Hunters!" the woman whimpered. "They won't stop until the leader is dead!"

"Kill them!" one of the 'hunters' snarled. "Agents of the liar! He will not escape!"

It's kind of sad that talking coherently was a higher cognitive function, but aiming and shooting wasn't. Case in point: the nutjobs were firing away and we were firing back. **(5)** Apparently knowing how to carry and operate portable shield generators was also a lower cognitive function, judging by the flare of light as my shots ricocheted away harmlessly.

We let Miranda and Kasumi start disabling their shields one by one so the rest of us could do our thing. Upon reflection, it's funny that my strongest memories from that fight were not the flow of battle or the surge of adrenaline, but the new weapons TIMmy had given us. We had used them on Horizon, but I never really noticed the differences until now. Like the way Jacob's geth shotgun sent ripples of white-blue light across the battlefield and exploded in a blaze of sparks as the arcs between the rounds flash-converted the air to plasma. Or the way Zaeed's Mattock semi-automatic rifle sounded less like a "ratatatata" and more like a "THUD-THUD-THUD." Or the way my Phalanx heavy pistol shone a cerulean laser sight to pinpoint just where my bullet would land—with explosive results that almost reminded me of my beloved sniper rifle.

Regardless of what I remembered, it didn't change the fact that our enemies weren't all that bright. Tactically, that is. Oh they outnumbered us, and they were aggressive, but they didn't really have a plan beyond shoot, duck when someone shot back, and charge. Which might explain how we got out of this encounter relatively unscathed.

"So, that's 'neural decay,' huh?" Kasumi asked after the battle was over. "They just seemed regular old crazy to me."

"My father wouldn't let this go on," Jacob insisted "Something is very wrong."

I only agreed with half of what he said, but didn't say anything. Instead, I checked on the woman we first met. She was still on her hands and knees, trembling. "You killed them, but there are more every day," she whimpered. "They want to fight, but I just want to go home."

"She's lost it," Jacob said impatiently. "We need to find someone who can make sense of this."

We tried to get her up, but she resisted. Vehemently. In the end, we were forced to concede that she wasn't in any shape to move and left her behind. Following a well-worn path, we headed around a large outcrop and up a hill. About halfway up, we bumped into the remains of a mech. LOKI light mech, from the looks of things. I kneeled over to scavenge what I could, which wasn't much. The thing was in rough shape.

"Stripped for parts," Jacob muttered. "Tech's wearing out. Those hunters must be laying on the pressure."

"I would," Zaeed grunted.

We didn't say anything until we reached the top of the hill. There was a small arch of rock, beyond which lay a lot of tents and other structures.

"Is that a settlement?" Jacob asked. "They'd be friendlier than the beach group," he added impatiently. "I need answers."

"We'll get them," I told him. "Just be patient for a little while longer."

As we got closer, the inhabitants noticed us.

"They're clearly docile, but in the same uniform remnants as those who attacked us," Miranda observed.

I nodded absently. She was right, but that wasn't what bothered me. "Where are all the men? Could the flora affect genders differently? Make males more violent?"

"That would make sense," Kasumi admitted. "But the woman on the beach said the 'exiled ones' came back as hunters."

"It doesn't matter right now," Jacob interrupted. "One of these people must know what my father has to do with this!" At some point, he'd apparently come to the same conclusion I did: that Daddy's hands were a little dirty.

"You have his face!" one of the women gasped, jumping back. "He promised to call the sky, but he sends nothing."

"He forced us to eat, to... decay," another woman added, pointing an accusing finger at Jacob. "You are cursed with his face!"

"Maybe you should have shaved today, Jacob," I said dryly. "That's not the best reaction to the family resemblance."

The look on Jacob's face revealed his confusion and horror. "Why would my father force his crew to eat toxic food? Why didn't he stop whatever was going on here?"

Sadly, it didn't get any better. The more we looked around, the more things looked really messed up. Especially for Jacob.

"Look at these spoiled food stores," he cried out, kicking over a crate whose contents were obviously moldy. "They've been eating only that toxic local food for who knows how long. Like that wasn't obvious enough."

Kasumi tried talking to some of the women, but she didn't get much out of them. "I can't talk to you," one of them said. "I... don't want punishing."

"He keeps us," one of them said happily. "Protects us. And we please him like he demands."

"Does that please him?" Jacob sputtered, pointing at a very crude statue. It looked like a scarecrow made of engine parts. "Somebody had to push them to make that. That... that's borderline _worship_."

"He did this to his own crew?" Kasumi whispered in disbelief. "Keeping the women for... making them... kicking out anyone who disagreed with him? Who the hell are we dealing with here?"

"Any CO who'd do this to his own crew is asking for a knife in his spine," Zaeed spat.

Our tour got rudely interrupted by a pack of LOKI light mechs. "Your captain demands obedience," one of them stated politely. "Weapons are forbidden." It then contradicted itself by lifting its forbidden weapon and shooting at us.

I immediately sent some plasma to melt the armour of the closest mech. Miranda did something similar with her biotics. Jacob lifted a bunch of them up in the air, where Kasumi promptly detonated an EMP, frying most of them. The remaining mechs were quickly eliminated.

"Patrols like that are a little much against this bunch," Miranda said afterward.

"Probably more for any guys that went feral," I guessed.

"Well that would make them hate him all right," Jacob said grimly.

"Please. Here. You can end it!"

It was one of the women, the closest on to the mech attack. She shuffled over to Jacob and peered at him. "You... have his face... but you fight his... machines. You might stop this."

She handed over a datapad. "This... I forget how to... read, but this... was the start. What he promised, and what they did to us. We need the sky. Take us back to the sky."

Jacob read over the datapad's contents. "Well?" I prompted after a couple minutes. "What does it say?"

"It's a crew logbook," Jacob replied. "Some of them thought the beacon repair was taking too long. They were afraid they'd run out of supplies and lose their minds to the decay. My father restricted the ship food for himself and the other officers so they wouldn't be affected. Everybody else had to eat the toxic food and hope for treatment later."

He shook his head in shock. "The rest is a casualty list. A few mutinied over the decision. My father and the officers turned the mechs on them."

This revelation matched everything else I'd seen and heard so far. "He wasn't command material and it got to him," I summarized. "Couldn't keep the crew in line without violence or forcing them to eat the local grub."

"It didn't stop there," Jacob said. "More incidents, harsh punishments. It's like they're cattle. Or toys. In a year, all the male crew members are flagged as 'exiled' or dead. The officers separated out the women. Assigned them to each other like pets.

"And after the beacon is fixed, the officers appear in the casualties too. _After_!" Jacob threw the datapad on the ground in anger. "My father took control and didn't stop it!"

"Anything in there about whether the effects of the toxic food can be treated?" I asked.

"Nothing," Jacob shook his head, leaning over to pick the datapad back up. "But I guess the food restrictions sound like the right call. If everyone got it, who'd be left to fix the beacon? You'd never get out. But they _did _fix it. And the signal wasn't sent until now. I'm starting to see why."

"Does it say why he separated the men and the women?" I tried. "Or is it as bad as it seems?"

Jacob looked at the datapad again. "No, it turns to gibberish. Maybe the men got violent early on, but from the state of this place, I'd say the hunter thing is recent. What he allowed here, Shepard... I don't see any justification."

"Where are the officers, anyway?" I mused, looking around. "We haven't seen any of them. Did he... did he kill them?"

"There were five after the crash," Jacob reported, "Medical, engineering, bridge staff. Should've had no problem fixing the beacon and keeping people safe. According to these logs, though, they were all killed within the same week—about a month after the beacon was repaired."

Awfully convenient, I thought, though I didn't say anything. "Do you see an explanation for this?" I asked instead. "He's your father."

"Is he?" Jacob looked at me in despair. "None of this fits. Maybe the initial decision, but the rest? Abuse of power doesn't get any clearer than this. I need to find this man."

* * *

><p>The camp that the women were in was surrounded on virtually all sides by rocky cliffs. The lone exception was a large stack of crates that sealed off a path. Too heavy to lift, to thick to shoot. I was about to try carving my way through with the Collector particle beam weapon when I saw a mech lying on the side.<p>

"Miranda, Kasumi; anyone know how to hotwire a mech?"

"I'm familiar with some of the basic architecture," Miranda replied.

"And messing around with systems is my specialty," Kasumi chimed in. "What're you thinking, Shep?"

"I want this thing to go boom," I replied, tilting my head towards the crates.

They got the idea. Between the three of us, we managed to bypass enough systems and jury-rig something. We scampered for cover just before the mech blew itself—and the crates—sky high.

As the dust settled, a voice echoed over the comm system. Judging by the readings, the speaker was broadcasting over all frequencies. _"This is Captain Ronald Taylor. Thank god you're here! My crew went insane. I only just got free!"_

"Goddamnit, it's really him," Jacob swore. "'Just got free?' He's covering his ass!"

"Look over here," Miranda called out. She was kneeling by a bunch of corpses, the bottommost looking like beef jerky. "The old corpse has been posed, like a warning. The new ones were left where they fell."

"Guess the hunters started fighting back," Zaeed growled.

"Watch out!" Kasumi warned.

The path led up a steep incline. It wasn't the exercise that got me sweating. It was the mechs that appeared at the top—thus having the advantage of a superior vantage point—shooting down at the five of us—who didn't have any cover worth mentioning. We had no choice but to charge up the hill and hope for the best.

Thankfully, there were only two of them, so we were able to blast through their armour, lift them up in the air and blow them to kingdom come. It was pretty close, though. Most of us lost our shields during that short, but admittedly stupid, manoeuvre.

"_Careful,"_ Taylor said as more LOKI mechs started marching towards us from the left and the right. **(6)** _"I automated my defences after the crew turned violent. They keep attacking! I had no choice."_

"He had plenty of choices," Jacob snapped, venting his frustration by rapidly firing off shots at one of the mechs. "Little late to blame his victims."

"Very true, Jacob," I shouted back, raising my voice over the din of all the gunfire. "But that doesn't mean you can forget about conserving ammo."

He looked at me blankly, lifted his shotgun to fire again, then realized what I was talking about when his gun reported that he had to eject his thermal clip and pop in a new one. While he was doing that, I melted the armour off another mech. As Miranda overloaded its systems, I opened a private channel to her. "Miranda, let's set up teams. Jacob's with you. Keep him focused and under control so he can have a 'chat' with his dad."

Without getting the rest of us killed, I silently added. Granted, that was a tall order, but she knew Jacob better than I did. Of course, that meant it was up to me to keep an eye on the ever-shifting battlefield and direct the squad. Choices, choices...

Speaking of the battlefield, it seemed like there were far more mechs coming from the left hand side. Which made sense—based on the terrain, it looked like that was where Taylor's camp was. Six more mechs to deal with, plus a couple stragglers. I fired some plasma fire off. By a stroke of luck, it melted the armour off of two mechs. Jacob immediately surrounded one of them in a biotic field and lifted it up in the air, where Miranda could detonate the field. Meanwhile, Kasumi shorted out the other mech, causing it to quiver on the spot and explode. Between the two explosions, most of the mechs were either destroyed or severely damaged. Easy pickings for the rest of us. By the time the last couple mechs arrived, we were recharged, reloaded and ready for them.

It appeared that there were no more mechs or other bad guys in the vicinity, so we scrounged around for loot. One of the more interesting finds was an old heavy pistol whose configuration was worth replicating. As my omni-tool scanned it, Taylor called out over the PA again: _"I had to keep them busy, distracted, but it's getting dangerous. Thank god you've come!"_

"He had his fun and now he wants out," Jacob laughed bitterly. "Son of a bitch."

Once everyone had grabbed a few thermal clips or whatever, we continued down the path. It led us to the entrance of another settlement, based on the improvised canvas roof and walls of crates we saw in the distance.

And the presence of more LOKI guards, of course. At least there was cover for us to hide behind. Not to mention that they only came out two or three at a time. I used the scope on my sniper rifle to get a lock on them so Miranda and I could destroy their armour at long range. Once that was done, they were easy pickings—as long as we kept them as far away as possible. Last thing we needed was to get shot at point blank range because the mechs were too oblivious to their impending doom. Boy would that be embarrassing.

Once the mechs were down, we entered the settlement. Beyond the entrance lay several hull plates arranged like walls. An inner sanctum, I guess.

"_Be careful," _Taylor warned us. _"You're about to run into my guards. It took years to train them and they won't understand if I tell them to stand down. I'm afraid you'll have to fight them to rescue me."_

As you might expect, that set Jacob off again. "Throwing people away. This... thing is not my father!"

"Let's take it slow and steady," I told him, grabbing some spare parts and power cells on autopilot. "We'll deal with anything that shoots at us, then we can have a nice little talk with him, alright?"

Sure enough, Taylor had some trigger-happy guards for us to play with. We started merrily playing hide and seek with them. Disable any shields that we could see. Fire off plasma or concussive rounds at anyone we could see—or if we couldn't, get someone to lift them out of cover. It seemed easy enough at first.

Then a freaking YMIR heavy mech stood up and turned towards us.

Aw, crap.

We hastily beat a 'tactical withdrawal.' I thought we'd have to run all the way back to the Hugo Gernsback, ducking rapid mass accelerator fire and rockets the whole way. So imagine my surprise when it stopped just short of the entrance to Taylor's camp.

"Maybe it was programmed to stay within a certain area," Miranda speculated. "As a last line of defence."

"Let's try that," I suggested. "We have to start whittling down its shields. Miranda, Kasumi; I want one of you to sneak forward and launch an EMP at the sucker. Don't waste time admiring the view: fire the pulse and run like hell."

After a bit of quibbling, Miranda and Kasumi settled on a way to select the first 'volunteer.' **(7)** Miranda wound up going first. She slowly advanced, her every step betraying her trepidation, and disappeared out of sight. A few seconds later, she came sprinting back.

We waited.

No giant mech came stomping around the corner.

Kasumi was next. Her experience was exactly the same.

"OK, as long as we don't do something stupid, this might not be so bad," Zaeed marvelled.

He was right. We just took our time taking apart the YMIR's shields one hit at a time. Same with its armour. And then with its systems. It seemed anticlimactic, but it was the safest and easiest YMIR encounter I'd had thus far.

There were only two more guards left. I had Miranda, Jacob and Zaeed keep them busy while Kasumi and I cloaked, snuck up on them and knocked them out with fisticuffs. I was starting to think that I didn't mind close quarters combat after all—as long as I could sneak up on them, the fight remained one-sided and it didn't last very long. Which meant that I was either a coward or really, really smart

Once we were sure that there were no more guards or mechs to surprise us, we did a quick sweep for thermal clips, medi-gel, salvage, power cells. You know, the usual.

"Enough with the toys," Jacob said impatiently. "I need to look my father in the eye and hear him justify this."

There really wasn't any reason to stop him, I decided. So we all went to meet him. He was waiting by a small alcove that overlooked the water.

To look at him, you wouldn't think he was that different from the other men and women we'd met. His clothes were similar to that of the crew. He didn't have any robes or jewels or anything.

"You're here! I knew a real squad would blow through just fine. Sorry if the mechs scuffed your pads."

But the fact that he could speak whole sentences kinda spoke volumes.

I walked past him and looked out onto the ocean. Nice view. No wonder he picked it for his private abode. The others stayed where they were, forcing Taylor to turn his head from side to side.

"I'll get you something nice when we get back to Alliance space," he tried. "I've got to have some back-pay coming."

"What about your crew, Acting Captain?" Jacob asked hostilely.

"Total loss," he replied, shaking his head in mock regret. "The toxic food turned them wild. They propped me up here in some kind of ritual behaviour. Waiting for a chance to signal has been hell."

I couldn't help marvel at this guy's stupidity. Sure he didn't have the chance to set up a cover story, but was a flat-out obvious lie the only thing he could think of? I mean, with all the evidence out there, his flimsy excuse of a story was so transparent, any idiot could see through it.

"That's the best you can do?" Jacob scoffed.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Taylor turn towards me. "You let all your people talk back like that... uh... who are you, exactly?"

"Commander Shepard of the Normandy," I introduced myself. Pointing behind Taylor, I added "I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Taylor."

"Taylor?" He whirled back, finally took a good look at his son and paled. "Jacob? No, not my Jacob."

"Why not me?" Jacob snapped. "Would ten years of this look better to anyone else in the galaxy?"

"You have to understand," Taylor sighed. "This isn't me. The realities of command, they change you. I wasn't ready for that."

Now he settled for honesty.

"I made sure you were taught right. Before I left. I had hoped to leave it at that."

"I'm not unreasonable, Captain," I said. "But _ten years_? What happened?"

"Goddamnit!" Jacob added. "Why did you do this to your crew?"

Maybe it was a relief to finally tell the truth. Or to talk to someone who could actually understand what was being said without drooling. Or both. Either way, Taylor started to spill his guts. As he talked, I noticed several hunters approach us. I silently ordered the rest of the squad to hold them off while Jacob and I focused on Taylor.

"There was resistance to the plan," Taylor explained. "Mutiny. We had to take a hard line to keep order. And things settled down. As the decay set in, we made sure the crew were comfortable. Some even seemed happier. Ignorance is bliss, right? And they were grateful for guidance, like an instinct. Pure authority was... easy. At first.

"Months in, the effect lowered inhibitions. They got territorial. Rank, protocol—they couldn't understand. We had to establish dominance. After a while, the perks seemed... normal."

"That's _it_?" Jacob demanded. "You created a harem and played king? Ten years in a juvenile fantasy?"

"I can't point to where it all went wrong," Taylor replied. "But when the beacon was ready, revealing what happened didn't seem like a good idea."

Gee. I wonder why. "What happened to the other officers?" I asked.

"Anders found his conscience a little late to step back."

Presumably that was the guy whose recording back on the Hugo Gernsback said enough was enough.

"He had an accident. Things got... tense. End of the day, I was the one with the mechs. I got a little basic in setting examples, but I was kind to my people once things settled down. Seemed like I'd earned some peace."

"You fought over people like they were toys," Jacob accused. "_Things_."

I noticed Taylor didn't offer any arguments. "The stores from the ship couldn't last forever," I said. "You had to know this would end one day."

"Dining for one can really stretch things out," Taylor shrugged. "Besides, I can think of retirement plans that are a lot worse than stripping down and joining the droolers."

Could this guy try any harder to destroy any respect we might have had for him? Not that there was any, mind you, but still.

"That was before the hunters, of course. Dumb or not, I'd feel it if they got their hands on me now. They want blood. I'd prefer to keep it."

"It's all about you," Jacob shook his head. "Everything."

"What triggered them to change and threaten you?" I asked curiously.

"Beats me, though I've noticed that this planet has some strange cycles to it," Taylor said, looking around him. "I've seen some plants around I never saw when we first crashed here. Odd weather, too. Maybe some just adapted a little too well."

I guess Jacob was so outraged; he was just spoiling for a fight—not that I could blame him—because he butted in once again. "And if you treat them like animals—big shock—they adapt to that and become animals as well."

I tilted my head towards Jacob. "You didn't feel any responsibility to get out of here for the sake of family?"

"I gave him a good start. He was a smart kid and was better off not following me. We figured that out a long time before I took jobs in deep space. And after things escalated here, it seemed best to just disappear off the galactic map."

"Until you needed someone to save your ass," Jacob reminded him scornfully.

"We can help these people, Jacob," I reassured him. "The Alliance can have ships here in days and pull everyone out."

Jacob abruptly pulled out his pistol and pointed it at his father. "He's not worth the fuel to haul him out, or the air he's breathing."

"Jacob!" Miranda snapped.

"Don't worry, Miranda," Jacob said bitterly. "He's damned lucky I don't even think he's worth pulling the trigger.

"I don't know who you are, _Mr. Taylor_," he concluded, slowly lowering his weapon. "Because you're not any father I remember."

"We'll secure him for an Alliance court," I decided. "For every year here, he'll have ten to think about it." **(8)**

"Give him all the time in the galaxy," Jacob replied, glaring at his... well, the man who used to be his father. "The man who did this doesn't know right from wrong."

"I'm sorry, Jacob," Taylor apologized quietly. "I did the best I could."

Jacob was already stomping away. "I'm ten years past believing that," he snapped back over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>I spent some time deciding what to do. We couldn't afford the time to round up everybody and hand them over to the Alliance. It would devastate the crew if we left them behind on the planet but took Taylor with us, even if he was in our custody. And I didn't want to leave everyone behind and hope that no one else showed up before the Alliance could get here.<p>

In the end, it turned out that there were several Alliance ships within a day's journey of the planet. So we tied Taylor up in his little camp and welded some plates together to trap him inside so he couldn't escape—and the crew couldn't deny him due process in their well-deserved lust for vengeance. After assuring everyone that help was on the way, we returned to the Normandy. On the way, I tapped into the shuttle's comm systems and piped an old song through the speakers.

"_Sometimes in our lives we all have pain.  
>We all have sorrow.<br>But if we are wise,  
>We know that there's always tomorrow<em>

"_Lean on me, when you're not strong,  
>And I'll be your friend.<br>I'll help you carry on.  
>For it won't be long<br>'Til I'm gonna need  
>Somebody to lean on."<em> **(9)**

What can I say? It seemed fitting, somehow.

"Alliance ships are inbound to secure Captain Taylor and his crew, Commander," Joker reported a half hour later, just as I was dropping by the armoury to see how Jacob was doing. "We'll be long gone by the time they get here."

Good. I wasn't sure how widespread my status of persona non grata was, but I didn't want some dimwit to arrest me as well as Taylor. "Don't even give them the taillights," I told him.

"Roger that."

I looked around. Jacob was nowhere in sight. Which was weird—he was almost always here, unless he was grabbing a meal from the mess hall. Or sleeping. "EDI, where's Jacob?"

"_Mr. Taylor is having an unscheduled conference with the Illusive Man in the comm room,"_ EDI replied.

Guess Taylor had decided to figure out how he'd gotten the delightful news of his father's status—and all the unwanted surprises that came with it. "Thanks," I said automatically, before realizing I was thanking an AI. Weird.

Almost as weird as walking into the comm room and seeing Jacob, surrounded by an orange columnar grid, seemingly talking to himself. Guess that's how I looked like chatting with TIMmy.

"What do you mean, it wasn't you?" Jacob was asking.

I entered the holographic column in time to hear TIMmy's reply: "Jacob, if I had leaked the information about the Gernsback, I would be smiling at your resolution of the situation. I am _not_ smiling."

For once, I found myself inclined to believe him. TIMmy didn't have anything to gain by lying. But for the sake of solidarity, I decided to chime in with Jacob. "Nothing goes through this ship—_my _ship—without a report to you," I reminded him.

"I had no more reason to believe Jacob's father was alive than he did," TIMmy said, lowering his ever-present cigarette. "But I'm happy to know the situation is behind you."

Jacob waved his answer aside impatiently. "Fine. You didn't forward it. So who did?"

"I did."

Miranda entered the holographic column. A few things started clicking together. "That would explain how it got through Cerberus filters," I realized.

"Quite." Miranda turned to Jacob. "There was a time when it mattered to you. Sending this along seemed like keeping an old promise. I keep my promises."

TIMmy's eyes narrowed. "Miranda, we'll discuss your liberal interpretation of security protocol another time. In private. Shepard, Jacob," he concluded before cutting off the communications link.

As the light grid lowered into the ground, Miranda looked at Jacob with something that looked like... I dunno. Sadness? Regret? Whatever it was, she quickly turned and left the room before either of us could say anything.

"You had no idea Miranda was behind this?" I asked Jacob.

"No," he shook his head. "She's got a good memory. Selective, but good. I haven't thought about those days in a long time. Can't figure which promise she meant, though. Not sure I really want to know. She... requires a better man than I."

He said that last sentence so softly, barely moving his lips. I don't think he meant for me to hear it. I'm not even sure he meant to say it. So I quickly changed the topic: "You good with this, Jacob?"

"It's all bull, Shepard," he replied bitterly. "Captain Taylor can rot in prison—it doesn't change who I am or what I know. I've already mourned the man he used to be. I guess he was a good enough father that even he can't screw up what he taught me."

It really said something about Jacob that he could find a silver lining in the midst of this twisted mess. I figured it was best to end this conversation on that note. "At least there's that. Come on," I said. "We've got work to do."

"Aye, Commander," Jacob nodded. He paused a moment before adding "Hey, Shepard? Thanks for the help."

"Anytime, Jacob."

We shook hands before going our separate ways.

That was probably the second time since we'd met that he didn't salute me. 

* * *

><p>I bumped into Kasumi during my daily rounds, just as I was stepping off the elevator onto Deck Three. Kind of unusual, that: usually I'm the only one going on or off the elevator. I asked where she was going.<p>

"Upstairs. I figured Jacob could use some cheering up."

That was a good idea. The only reason I hadn't done that myself was because it hadn't been that long since we'd chatted with TIMmy. I gave her a quick summary of our conversation.

"Good for her," Kasumi approved. "Guess it's true what they say: you really can tell a lot about someone by the quality of his friends. Jacob deserves better than a father like that. I probably would have wanted to shoot him too," she concluded rather viciously.

"Well, why don't you go up and tell him that?" I suggested.

"I'd be happy to," Kasumi grinned, "as soon as you get your fat ass out of the way."

She's a cruel and vicious liar. My ass is _not _fat.

After I said my goodbyes to Kasumi, I started wandering around Deck Three. Most of my conversations were the typical chit-chat that didn't last more than a few minutes. The only exception was when I came to Miranda's office.

"Hey, Miranda," I said, giving my usual greeting. "Got a minute?"

For once, she did. "I expect you have some questions regarding why I forwarded the information to Jacob."

"You could say that," I nodded.

"Did Jacob ever tell you how we first met?" she started.

"Yeah. The two of you teamed up to stop an act of bioterrorism by the batarians against the Council," I replied.

"That's it?" she pressed.

"There's more?"

Miranda sighed. "Understandable, I suppose. After we successfully thwarted the attack, I surprised Jacob in his quarters with a bottle of champagne."

Oh.

"One thing led to another..."

Ah. "That does shed some light on something. He may have dropped a hint that the two of you had something going at one point," I clarified in answer to her querying look.

She winced. "I was afraid of that. At the time, I considered it nothing more than an enjoyable, albeit impulsive, reward for a job well done. A one-night stand, as it were."

Hoo boy. Now it was my turn to wince. "Jacob took it more seriously, didn't he?"

"That would be putting it mildly," she confirmed. "We tried to... to date once he joined Cerberus, but the chemistry simply wasn't there. In the end, I concluded that it would be best if our relationship stayed strictly professional."

"And he was okay with that?" I asked.

"He wasn't," Miranda sighed, "but he was willing to put his personal feelings aside for the sake of the greater good. Even though it was painfully clear to me that he hadn't gotten over it, he never let it affect his performance. I always admired that about him."

"So what you did was your way of... apologizing for inadvertently leading him on?"

"That, too—he expressed a desire to find some closure regarding his father before we broke up, and I had promised to do what I could to help him. Though if I had known—"

"You can't blame yourself," I interrupted.

Her eyes blazed. "I screwed up, Shepard. I should have checked things out first. Instead, I gave Jacob incomplete intel that led to the horrifying discovery we all made down there. You saw how devastated he was. He might never recover."

"Or you might have given him the closure he desired, no matter how bittersweet it might be," I countered. "Sure it sucks, but now he can move on."

"I hope you're right," Miranda said. "He deserves that much, after everything he's been through."

By the time I saw Jacob, he seemed to have put things behind him. Either Kasumi's visit cheered him up or Miranda was right about his discipline in separating work and personal business. Or both. After a brief chat where he claimed he was fine, I went back to my quarters.

I happened to be checking my e-mail as we headed for the nearest mass relay. Just before I shut my browser, I got a new message. After reading it, I forwarded it to Jacob. Figured it was something he oughta receive:

_From: Leslie  
>I am Leslie. I was on Aeia. The food made me sick. The doctors are helping me now.<em>

_One doctor knows Jacob. He says he can you tell this. He could write this for me, but I want to do it. I need to use my words._

_My words are coming back. I can talk well. Reading is hard but I am getting better. I have to get better. Taylor wanted me like this. He wanted my words gone. I have to show him that he lost. I am not weak. He did things to me, and he can't now. He can't take away my words. He can't make me not me anymore. Because you and Jacob stopped him._

_Thank you,_  
><em>Leslie<em>

* * *

><p><em>(1): Once again, Shepard's modesty and self-deprecation masks the positive influence he had on other people, regardless of efforts to manipulate that.<em>

_(2): A common, if unfortunate, side-effect from respecting the chain of command, often seen between senior and junior officers or officers and non-commissioned officers._

_(3): Shepard's father was presumed dead after an experiment gone awry in 2167, when Shepard was eleven years old._

_(4): While admittedly crass, this general doctrine—if not the mercantile undertones—was how the Alliance spread so quickly throughout the Attican Traverse. _

_(5): Presumably Shepard is referring to himself when it came to his cognitive abilities. _

_(6): Shepard uses the surname to refer to Jacob Taylor's father, thus distinguishing the father from his son._

_(7): Based on reports by the other squadmates, this decision making process was similar to the time-honoured tradition of 'Rock-Paper-Scissors.'_

_(8): If anything, Shepard was understating the duration of the multiple sentences Taylor would receive._

_(9): 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers, released in 1972._


	17. The Most Expensive Rock in the Galaxy

**Chapter 14: The Most Expensive Rock in the Galaxy**

Welcome to Illium.

The crowning jewel of the Asari Republics and the galaxy, or its dirty little secret. Where dreams go walk down the street, clad in pounds of flesh bought, borrowed or stolen. Where fortune and misfortune have illicit affairs every hour of every day. Where temptation and corruption are always on sale.

The sun is always setting here, mocking inhabitants and tourists with one last flicker of hope for the bargain price of your soul. The neon lights are ever-present, illuminating that incredible deal and all its seductive allure while obscuring the fine print in the shadows they cast. And no one would have it any other way.

You can find anything you want on Illium, if it doesn't find you first. Illegal tech, addictive pleasures, sex and death and everything in between. More sin and depravity than you can shake your credit card at, in all its sophistication and glory. Just remember the golden rule: buyer beware. If you can't spot the sucker in the deal, it's almost certainly you.

Welcome to Illium. Don't say you weren't warned.

* * *

><p>Illium was developed as a commercial hub between the Asari Republics and the Terminus Systems. Officially, it was not an asari world, just one colonized, owned and operated by asari corporate interests. As a result, it was infamous for its labour practises, legalization of virtually everything and the production and trade of just about every legal and illegal item out there. Unofficially, it's still considered an asari world and thus considered safe, cultured and exotic. Naturally, such a reputation lured thousands of celebrities, corporations and tourists each year—that and its glamour, luxury and elegance. In many ways, it's the evil twin to both the Omega <em>and<em> Citadel —it had all the crime, corruption and depravity of the former cloaked in the wealth, splendour and cosmopolitan modernity of the latter.

Unlike most worlds, we didn't have to take a shuttle to the surface. Despite her size and weight, we could actually fly the Normandy into Illium's atmosphere and land her at the starport without the whole thing plummeting out of the sky, crashing and causing all sorts of property damage—oh yeah, and loss of life. Proof of how cutting-edge Illium was. As we flew towards the starport at Illium's capital, Nos Astra, we were greeted to a breathtaking cityscape of skyscrapers clad in glass, steel and neon—all lit up against a stunning sunset.

The squad was greeted outside the docking bay by an asari in an expensive-looking dress, backed up by a pair of LOKI mechs. "Welcome to Nos Astra, Commander Shepard," she greeted us. "We've been instructed to waive all docking and administration fees for your visit."

Very generous. What's the catch, I wanted to know.

"My name is Careena," the asari introduced herself. "If you need information about the area, it would be my pleasure to assist you."

"Who instructed you to waive the fees?" I wanted to know. Some bigshot politician? Some up-and-coming CEO?

"The order came from Liara T'Soni, who paid all fees on your behalf."

Either that was a very common asari name or archaeology had gotten much more lucrative in the last two years. I wasn't the only one who'd noticed that.

"Liara paid for all that?" Tali repeated.

"Since when did Liara have that many creds to throw around?" Garrus asked.

Ignoring our questions, Careena ordered the mechs to leave us with her omni-tool. Looking up, she added "She also asked that I direct you to speak with her at your convenience. She's near the trading floor."

"What does Liara do here?" I asked. Trading Prothean goodies, perhaps?

"Liara is one of Nos Astra's most respected information brokers," Careena replied.

...

"Information broker?" I repeated incredulously. Young, innocent, wet-behind-the-ears Liara had switched career tracks to a life of dealing secrets and data? I had half a mind to pinch myself.

Careena misunderstood my surprise. "Nos Astra is based upon trade," she explained. "Information is valuable currency and Liara has done quite well. If you're curious, you can find her near the trading floor. She was looking forward to seeing you."

"What can you tell me about Nos Astra?" I asked, trying to deal with this surprise by changing the subject.

"It's an exciting city," she smiled. "We see a lot of new cultures and goods because of our proximity to the Terminus Systems. At the same time, Illium is still an asari world. You should be as safe here as you would be on the Citadel. For your own safety, however, I recommend against signing anything."

So it was safe and unsafe. Good thing that wasn't confusing—oh wait. It _was_. "What's so dangerous about signing something?"

"Illium is a free-trade world, Commander," Careena elaborated. "It's a wonderful world for those who can afford it. In order to remain competitive as a Terminus Systems port, we've relaxed many of the contract term requirements and standards of living that you'd find on other planets. It's a small price to pay for keeping our competitive edge in goods from the Terminus Systems."

"You mentioned trading," I said. "What gets traded on Illium?"

"Anything you can imagine, Commander," she replied. "Most drugs are legal, provided they are labelled properly. You can buy almost any weapon or technology. You can even buy indentured servants."

That raised an eyebrow. "An asari world allowing slavery. Now I've heard everything."

And _that _brought another smile. "We try to avoid calling it slavery. All indentured servants on Illium have voluntarily agreed to a term of service. Most choose indentured service as a means to pay off debt or avoid imprisonment." **(1)**

Uh huh.

"A contract holder is responsible for the well-being of her servants and a servant's duties are agreed upon before the contract is signed."

Which made it all better, didn't it?

Regardless of my increasingly ambivalent views on Illium and the culture it had fostered, it was hard to take it out on Careena. She was just doing her job with the sanitized meet n' greet infomercial. Besides, she hadn't screwed me over yet. Still, it was clear that she wouldn't be able to provide much help regarding the various missions I had here, so I said my goodbyes.

"I still can't believe Liara could afford to pay our fees," Garrus said.

"Much less start a new career," Tali agreed. "She seemed so happy with her life as an archaeologist."

"And why would she start a new career on Illium, of all places?" Garrus wondered.

"Perhaps Liara can provide some answers when we see her," Miranda suggested. "Besides, if she's as powerful an information broker as Careena says she is, she may be able to help us find our prospective squadmates."

EDI seemed to agree. _"Customs records indicate a justicar named Samara is visiting this port, Shepard. Your former teammate, Liara T'Soni, may have more information. Her office overlooks the trading floor. You may wish to speak to her regarding Thane Krios, the assassin on your dossier, as well. Also, I have a message for Miss Lawson. Lanteia has reserved a room at the Eternity bar and will be waiting for you."_

"Thank you, EDI," Miranda said. **(2)**

We walked over to the trading floor, an open-air market full of computerized kiosks with a stunning view of Illium's cityscape.

"You have to give the asari credit," Miranda said, noting my admiration. "Illium is a cultural marvel. Humanity can learn a lot from their ingenuity."

"Towers, traffic, lights and asari, everywhere you look," Kasumi chimed in. "I thought about living here for a while, but everyone's so tight-ass. It's all about money to these people. I do what I do for the love of it. These people do it because they don't know any better."

Garrus had a different take, however. "We were always told that Illium is one of the safest places in the galaxy... until you fell off the grid. Sign the wrong contract, join up with the wrong company, or walk down the wrong alley and it's as dangerous as anywhere else. Don't let this place fool you—it's no safer than Omega."

"I just want to know if these people have anything worth buying," I said. "Or any skills that could help the mission. Let's get moving."

* * *

><p>I didn't get ten metres before getting sidetracked. "Excuse me!" an asari called out. "Excuse me, are you Commander Shepard?"<p>

"Yes," I said slowly, turning to her.

"I saw your... I guess you would say your aura. I'd recognize you anywhere."

Okay...

"I was asked to give you a message if I saw you. It's from a friend you made on Noveria."

"I met a lot of people on Noveria," I told her. "Could you be more specific?"

"I believe the message itself should make it clear," she replied, taking a step forward. Her eyes rolled up in her head. I had a sudden urge to reach for my pistol, but since she wasn't levitating in the air or talking about direct control, I figured I might be okay.

"Shepard," the asari said. "We hide. We burrow. We build. But we know that you seek those who soured the songs of our mothers. When the time comes, our voice will join with yours, and our crescendo will burn the darkness clean."

Noveria. Musical references. Gotta be rachni.

"Thank you, Shepard. The rachni will sing again, because of you."

Damn, am I good or what? "I'm glad to hear that you are rebuilding," I replied. "Are you somewhere close by?"

The asari shuddered and blinked. When she opened her eyes, they were... well, back to normal. "The rachni queen is not here," she said. "That message is one of many memories I carry from her. I encountered her on an uncharted world. She saved my life. More than that, she gave me a purpose.

"They are an amazing people, Shepard. The galaxy owes you a great debt for giving them a second chance."

"How did you find the rachni?" I asked.

"I was working as a courier," she explained. "Pirates ambushed my ship and I was forced down on an uncharted planet. I was badly injured, alone and near death... then they found me. They saved me."

"You obviously got off-world again," I said, stating the obvious. "Did the rachni give you a ship?"

"No," she shook her head, "countless workers repaired my ship. It runs better now than it did before. They remind me of the keepers on the Citadel, in a way. All working together, each with a purpose."

"And the pirates who attacked you?" I continued. "What happened to them?"

"They were obliterated. As they should have been. The rachni are not aggressive, but they do what they must."

Oookaaaay. "You said the queen gave you a purpose," I said, recalling her earlier words. "What do you mean?"

A look of awe and reverence swept over her face. "The queen shared her song with me as I recovered. I saw the rachni as only an asari could. They are so beautiful... and so vulnerable. They needed someone to purchase things they cannot make themselves. Someone to work within the system. An agent, if you will. I am happy to help. My life as a courier was empty and shallow. Now I'm helping a great race rebuild itself."

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You were really comfortable walking away from your old life? Just like that?"

She immediately twigged to my suspicions. "You're concerned that the queen is controlling me. I understand, but it doesn't work like that. Our minds were in perfect harmony. I saw their beautiful spirit and their need. I knew what I had to do. If some part of that is suggestion, then it was a side-effect from their efforts to save my life. I am happy."

She sounded like one of those 'born-again' believers, in my opinion. Still, she wasn't acting all 'holier-than-thou,' or trying to 'save my soul.' Which probably needs a lot of saving, but not from her. "Can you tell me where the rachni are?" I asked.

"I'm afraid not," she said regretfully. "I don't even have that information myself any longer. After I met the rachni queen, that information was... removed. It's not painful, but I simply don't remember. I'll remember when I need to. And her caution is understandable. The galaxy isn't yet ready for the return of the rachni."

On that, we could agree. There was just one more thing I had to ask: "I got that she was grateful. What else was her message trying to say?"

"That the first Rachni War was a mistake. Something soured the voices of her people."

Was that like the opposite of a lozenge?

"In rachni psychology, that would be like mind control, I think. It doesn't really translate. Anyway, she believes you are fighting the ones who did that. And she promises to help."

Whoa. So that meant... "She thinks that the Reapers caused the Rachni War?"

"I can't say for sure," she shrugged. "But she was certain that her ancestors were forced into war against their will. Her people aren't naturally aggressive. If they made war, it was not of their own doing."

Well, my past encounters suggested otherwise, but I'd be the first to admit that people did things that were completely out of character when they encountered the Reapers and their indoctrination tricks. "Thank you for giving me that information," I finally said. "I'm glad my friend on Noveria is doing well."

"Be well, Commander Shepard."

We went our separate ways; the asari off to do... whatever it was she was going to do and me off to find Liara.

"Holy crap! Shepard? I thought you were dead!"

Or not.

I turned around to see a woman sitting at a nearby table, drink halfway up to her mouth. Somehow, the way the pink fabric around her collar blended with the chocolate hue of her skin triggered an old (well, two years old, at least) memory. I'd met her on Noveria, as I recalled. Some undercover agent pretending to be a secretary. Gianna something-or-other.

"The news reports said you were dead? What happen—no, wait," she interrupted herself. "Probably classified. Forget I asked. You'd just have to lie."

She wasn't supposed to know that. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was losing my touch.

"It's been a couple of years," she said. "I'm Gianna Parasini, Noveria Internal Affairs."

Right. _That _was her name. Well, at least I got half of it right.

"You helped me nail Administrator Anoleis," she reminded me.

"Happy to help," I smiled. "As I recall, he got caught with his hands in the cookie jar."

"Exactly," she grinned. "The one mistake Noveria won't tolerate."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"He's doing a few years in white-collar prison."

"That's it?"

"I agree that isn't much by itself. I'd be upset as well if it wasn't for the fact that he's been black-listed. He won't work in the field again."

That's more like it.

"Sit down," she invited. "If I remember right, I owe you a beer."

Now that she mentioned it, I do recall her saying that before hauling Anoleis off to the slammer. There was just one problem: the table only had a couple spare seats and all the other tables were full.

Garrus came to my rescue. "Miranda: Shepard, Tali and I met Ms. Parasini when we were investigating a lead on Noveria."

Miranda immediately caught on. "No doubt the four of you have a few things to catch up on," she said smoothly. "Jacob and I can take the others to look around the rest of the trading floor."

"Thanks," I nodded gratefully.

Garrus, Tali and I sat down while the rest of the squad wandered off. After placing an order for drinks, Gianna leaned forward. "What brings you to Illium?" she asked. "You know, that you can talk about?"

"I'm just fumbling through an investigation right now," I shrugged. "Top-secret. Mostly putting together a team and doing research right now."

"Sounds vague," she chuckled knowingly.

"I try," I grinned. "No offense."

"None taken: I've been undercover enough to know how it goes."

I figured as much. That's the advantage of dealing with professionals, even corporate ones.

Gianna looked off somewhere to the right, then quickly looked back. A look of frustration briefly flashed across her face, followed by a "Eureka" look that disappeared just as quickly. "Hey, listen, I just remembered something," she said hurriedly. "I've got to go. Talk to you later?"

Without waiting for my reply, she stood up, just as our drinks arrived. "Don't forget to drink your beer," she added before walking off.

I looked down at my drink. There was a datapad tucked underneath. Very neat sleight-of-hand. I picked up the drink, casually opening the message window that was flashing at the bottom:

_Shepard. Had to leave. Target saw me. Couldn't break cover. Asari merchant at Serrice Technology smuggling schematics from Noveria. Can you talk her into showing you good stuff? _

I gave myself ten minutes or so to finish my drink before wandering back and forth between trading booths and kiosks. Eventually I wound up at the Serrice Technology booth. I took my time browsing through the electronic catalogue, mentally noting the ones I would've wanted to buy even if I hadn't been helping someone out, before looking up and catching the merchant's eye.

"Welcome!" she smiled. Her voice sounded very... young. Funny, I know, since she was probably old enough to be my grandmother. "You look like someone who needs high-quality equipment! My store has the best tech and biotic equipment on Illium."

"I'll say," Tali said, playing along. "Any one of these items would make a fabulous Pilgrimage gift."

"I just wish they weren't so expensive," I sighed. "I'd planned to drop a lot of credits today, but my bank account isn't _that _large."

She took the bait. "Really?" she said eagerly.

"Really," I nodded. "I'm outfitting a team for a dangerous mission. I need the best and I'm willing to pay for it... as long as you work with me."

"Well... perhaps I could give you a preferred rate at the kiosk," she offered. She turned around and entered a few commands. "Here. A small discount—and when I get special items in, you can take a look."

She wasn't kidding when she said it was a small discount. Still, paying 25 000 credits for a bypass module that could help me open up safes instead of 30 000 credits was better than nothing. Ditto with the medi-gel capacity upgrade. I then paused and looked at another item. "What do you think?" I asked Tali and Garrus. "15 000 credits off the original price."

"But you still have to pay 75 000," Tali murmured. "Isn't that a little pricey?"

"The biotics on the squad would definitely appreciate the upgrade to their amps," Garrus pointed out. "So would the rest of us when those augmented biotics save our asses in a combat situation."

"Those biotics currently consist of Cerberus terrorists and a crazy psychopath," Tali reminded.

"Good point," I conceded. "But... I think I'll get it anyway."

The merchant was trying—and failing—to hide her grin. Can't blame her: I'd dropped 125 000 credits within four minutes. Time to reel her in. I leaned towards her. "Out of curiosity, what kind of 'special items' are we talking about?"

She tried to act cagey. "Oh, you know, schematics, designs. Nothing illegal, but I may not have all the licenses to sell them."

I waved that off. "Dangerous mission, remember? Licenses are the last thing I'm worried about. Listen, do you have any of them right now? Anything not listed on your main merchandise kiosk?"

"Well, there is one thing," she admitted.

There we go.

She took a datapad out of her pocket and thumbed it on. The schematics for some doohickey were displayed on the screen. "Very advanced design. Not publicly available yet."

"That's because it's still in development on Noveria," Gianna said, strolling up to the kiosk right on cue. "And illegal for export. Hello, Hermia."

I snatched the datapad out of Hermia's hand and passed it over to Gianna. Hermia barely noticed, too busy looking back and forth between me and Gianna and trying to decide who to get mad at. She finally settled on Gianna. "Parasini! You set me up!"

Now she really sounded like a kid.

"But this isn't Noveria," she pouted. "You don't have the authority to arrest me!"

Gianna smiled sweetly. "I don't care whether you go to jail. I've got all the evidence I need to _fine _you out of business."

"Not to put a damper on things, but do you have the authority to seize the schematic she's trying to sell?" I asked curiously.

"I don't have to," Gianna replied. "Hermia was under suspicion from the beginning. We leaked a faulty device to her. All this thing will ever do is blow up in your face."

I'll pass, thanks. I get enough of that by accident. Last thing I need is to actually _pay _for that.

While we were talking, Hermia was slowly edging away. "I... I need to go," she blurted out. "I have to talk to my lawyer." With that, she quickly started to walk away.

"Talk fast, Hermia!" Gianna called out behind her. "When the fines hit, you won't be able to afford him!"

That prompted Hermia to start running—fast—and Gianna to laugh. "Ah, that was good," she sighed after a couple seconds. "I've got to go file a few papers. Well, a lot of papers, actually. Come by my table when you've got a minute?"

"Sure thing," I agreed. "Maybe in a couple hours?"

* * *

><p>After finalizing the details, we parted ways. Checking in with Miranda, Jacob and the others, I found out they were only halfway through the kiosks. Since they wouldn't be done any time soon, I figured that now was as good a time as any to go find Liara.<p>

We soon found her office. Apparently she was in the middle of a vid-call, so we chatted with her assistant. An asari named Nyxeris. Who either was Liara's biggest fan ever or was permanently stoned. Or both. Somehow, though, she managed to handle all the administrative stuff for Liara and dig up supplementary data for her, the latter of which added to the intel that Liara gleaned each day from a 'sizeable network of connections.' It seemed Liara had acquired an incredible amount of influence and respect over the last few years, and could have even more if she wasn't distracted by personal issues. Whatever they were.

I soon got tired of Nyxeris's fawning. At least, that's what I would say if anyone asked. Deep down, her mindless worship was freaking me out. So I barged into Liara's office, seeking refuge behind a set of thick, expensive doors.

"Have you faced an asari commando unit before? Few humans have."

So much for refuge. The last time I'd heard those words was when Liara's mother Benezia, then under the control of Sovereign's indoctrination, was threatening me.

Hearing them again from Liara's mouth was just a wee bit disconcerting. She was standing in front of a holo-projection. The bald man on the other end was shuffling nervously. I couldn't blame him.

"I will make it simple," Liara concluded. "Either you pay me or I flay you alive. _With my mind_."

She terminated the connection with an emphatic stab of her thumb against the comm controls. It was only at that point that she noticed my presence. "Shepard! Nyxeris, hold my calls," she said hurriedly, before giving me a big hug. I think it would have been more comforting if I hadn't heard her threaten someone. After a long minute, she let go and went over to her desk, which was buried under computers and data pads. "My sources said you were alive, but I never believed... it's very good to see you."

"Good to see you too," I said, crossing my arms. "Too bad that guy you were talking to would probably think otherwise. You're threatening to flay people alive now?"

"Oh, that. That was just a customer unhappy with the information he received. He will pay. They always do."

Because she always threatened to flay her clients with her mind?

"Ever since I helped you stop Saren, people have wanted to be my friend... or not be my enemy," she explained. "I have set up a respectable business as an information broker. It has paid the bills since you... well, for the past two years. And now you are back, gunning for the Collectors with Cerberus."

"Impressive," I said. "That's not exactly public knowledge."

"Neither is you being alive," Liara shrugged.

Okay, I decided. Time to see what other kinds of intel she could offer. "I'm looking for Thane Krios. He's supposed to be here on Illium."

Liara recognized the name. "The assassin. Yes, he arrived here a few days ago. My sources tell me he may be targeting a corporate executive. Nassana Dantius."

That name sounded familiar for some reason.

"He contacted a woman named Seryna. She has an office in the cargo transfer levels. Perhaps she can tell you where Krios is."

I raised an eyebrow. "That was all just off the top of your head?"

"I am a very good information broker, Shepard," Liara replied.

Clearly.

"The world of intrigue is not that different from a dig site. Except that the dead bodies still smell."

Yes. Because bodies from dig sites are so much more considerate.

"Okay, cards on the table," I suddenly said, leaning forward.

Liara looked at me with a blank look. Guess she hadn't run across that idiom in the midst of gathering intel, selling information or flaying people with her brain.

"It would be nice to have you back on the squad," I told her. "I could use your help on this mission. Between your biotics and all the intel you have at your fingertips, you'd be a great asset. Not to mention that having another familiar face around would be great."

"I cannot, Shepard," she replied. "I am sorry. I have commitments here. Things I need to take care of."

"What kinds of things?" I frowned. "Are you in trouble? Do you need help?"

"No, no trouble," she said, abruptly rising to her feet and staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window behind her desk. "But it has been a long two years. I had things to do while you were gone. I have debts to repay.

"Listen," she said, whirling back just as abruptly, "if you want to help, I need someone with hacking expertise, someone I can trust. If you could disable security at key points around Illium, you could get me information I need. That would help me a great deal."

First she said she'd flay a customer with her mind. Then she couldn't join the squad. Now she wanted me to go play gofer? I didn't know whether to be confused or really creeped out. "Hacking a terminal sounds pretty easy. **(3)** Why do you need me?"

"I do not know anyone else I can trust," Liara replied. "Hacking the security nodes won't get you the data. It just creates a minor glitch in the system. You'll have a short time to find a local server left vulnerable by that glitch and upload the data to my system. I'm leaving my own system vulnerable so that the data can be imported during that short time."

Right. So she wanted me to hack some system so I could find some server to find some data. That was vague. "What's this all about, Liara," I sighed. "Can't you just talk to me?"

"Don't you think I want to, Shepard?" she burst out. It occurred to me that this was the first time I'd heard her use contractions. "This isn't because I don't trust you. This is Illium. Anything I say is probably being recorded."

You'd think that a hotshot information broker could afford to have some countermeasures installed to _prevent _that. But what do I know? I'm just a grunt-turned-hacker-turned-cybernetic zombie ninja. "If it will help you, I'll take care of it," I finally agreed.

"Thank you, Shepard," she smiled. "This may help me pay a great debt."

* * *

><p>For a moment there, I thought I'd be spending the next few weeks helping out Liara. I mean, 'disabling security at key points around Illium' implies that you'd be doing some traveling, right? Nope. Turns out those key points could all be found within one of the courtyards at Nos Astra, one floor down from the trading floor. Looked like I could complete Liara's job within a couple hours.<p>

I was just about to start when an asari got up from a nearby bench and approached me. A _green _asari. Just like all those asari clones the Thorian pumped out on Feros two years ago. This déjà vu thing was starting to get really freaky.

"Shepard! I... I don't suppose you'd remember me," she said. "I'm Shiala. We met on Feros during the geth attack."

"At Zhu's Hope," I nodded.

"Exactly," Shiala said. "After you saved me from the Thorian, I promised to help the colony recover. I'm actually here on Illium for just that purpose."

"How is Zhu's Hope doing?" I asked.

"We've done a lot of rebuilding," she replied. "We even salvaged some useful material from the geth ship you destroyed. The ExoGeni researchers got called back to their headquarters, however... along with what was left of the Thorian."

Just as well. The only reason ExoGeni was interested in the colony was because they were using the inhabitants as test subjects to gauge the Thorian's abilities. Mind you, knowing that they left with the Thorian's remains wasn't the most reassuring news I'd heard in... well... the last few hours, but at least they wouldn't be screwing over the colonists. "Sounds like ExoGeni's up to business as usual," I snorted. "Leaving you guys high and dry. Unless they're pushing you around. Is that why you're here?"

"No," Shiala shook her head. "While the researchers may have left, ExoGeni has been very supportive of Zhu's Hope. They actually seem to want to help us survive. I fear that after our adventure on Feros, my purpose on Illium will seem mundane by comparison."

"Is there something I can do to help?" I offered.

Her shoulders sagged in relief. Not much, probably less than a millimetre, but enough for me to notice. "I'd appreciate it," she said gratefully. "I've reached the limits of my diplomatic abilities and I'd prefer not to start trouble.

"Some of the colonists had health problems as a result of the Thorian control. We hired a colonial survey group to do some medical scans. But the medical contract apparently allows the company to perform invasive procedures without our consent. That's why I'm here."

"Tell me more about the contract you signed for these scans," I said.

Shiala gestured over her shoulder at a kiosk behind her. "Baria Frontiers was interested in our problem; they offered to perform medical scans and deliver treatment for next to nothing."

And that didn't raise any eyebrows?

She knew what I was thinking. "I should have known it was too good to be true, but we were desperate. In the fine print, we apparently agreed to let them perform invasive follow-up procedures if they deem it valuable. Which they have."

"Can they actually force these procedures on you?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head, "but they can declare us in breach of contract, which means we're responsible for the full price we would have paid normally. Zhu's Hope just got back on its feet. There's no way we can afford that, Shepard."

"What kind of health problems did the colonists have?"

"Headaches or muscle spasms similar to what they experienced while under Thorian control," Shiala replied. Sometimes, the colonists shared sensations like heat or pain. It has to be a result of trace amounts of the Thorian's parasitic spores. You can see why we'd want it studied... and cured."

That might explain something that I'd noticed. "Did your... skin tone change as well after the Thorian died? You were only green when the Thorian made clones of you. The real you was blue, like most asari."

"Yes," she admitted. "Those health problems I said were related to the Thorian control? This is mine. A few months after the Thorian died, my skin pigment changed. My biotic abilities are unstable as well." She paused to rub her forehead. "I'm also having vivid dreams," she added "about my time with the Thorian. It is... disconcerting."

I made a snap decision. Liara's job had no set time frame. It could wait for a bit. "I'll talk to the survey group," I told her.

"I appreciate it, Shepard."

Shiala went back to her seat and plopped down while the three of us went to the Baria Frontiers representative. She was waiting for us.

"I saw your conversation, human. You're here to complain about the medical contracts those colonists from Feros signed. I suggest you leave. Your life is short enough. Do not waste what time you have bothering me."

Hostile and antagonistic right from the start. Interesting.

"Why are you insisting on these tests?" I asked. "What use could they possibly be?"

"Their use is not your concern," she sniffed in contempt. "A legal binding contract was signed. Nothing else matters. All of you, humans, salarians, turians... you come to our planet, then complain that our laws don't suit you. The galaxy would be a better place if nobody but the asari had ever dragged themselves out of the primordial muck."

A brief detour to legal technicalities, then back to hostility with an added dose of xenophobia and hatred. I might have decked her, but I did have my rep to maintain in front of witnesses. For old time's sake if nothing else. Besides, even if I didn't care about my rep, two of those witnesses might. More importantly, her venom sounded curiously emotional. And I'm always a sucker for indulging my curiosity. "Perhaps we could work out different tests—something that will work for both sides."

"If the colonists were not willing to abide by the terms of the contract, they should not have signed it," she said calmly. "The onus is not upon me to accommodate them."

Was this really because she was a stickler for contracts?

Her earlier tone implied otherwise. Playing along, I raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You really think this is legal? Maybe Illium's contract analysts should look it over."

"You ignorant yokel," she sneered. "I was negotiating contracts when your ancestors were still burning witches and enslaving each other."

Somehow, I refrained from making any comments about her age and the potential for senility.

"I haven't lost a contract dispute in 70 years. Try me."

I decided to test my hunch: "You seem to forget that a human saved you from Saren and the geth."

That set her off. "The geth created by the idiotic _quarians_? That a _rogue turian Spectre_ led in an attack?"

Thankfully, she turned her back to stare at the Nos Astra cityscape for a moment, so she missed Tali step forward. No doubt she was going to protest the insult against her people. I gave her a look to stay back and keep quiet—I was sure I was onto something with this woman and I didn't need Tali screwing it up, however good her intentions. Garrus also motioned for her to do the same, which was reassuring—clearly we were of one mind on that subject.

The asari continued. "The geth didn't start with the Citadel. They attacked your human colony, Eden Prime, first. You humans brought the geth upon us. _You_, and the _turians_, and the _quarians_. My people's deaths are on _your_ hands!"

So it _was _personal. I had to admit, I was hooked. I just had to find out what was at the root of all this. **(4)** "I thought asari preferred to mate with other races for genetic diversity," I said. "Like humans, turians and quarians."

"A short-sighted mistake perpetrated by the same self-hating malcontents who spawned the hateful term 'pureblood,'" she glared. "We hardly need your alien DNA to randomize genetic material. A little radiation would work just as well."

Somehow, I doubted the rational members of the galactic community would accept radiation therapy as a valid fertilization procedure.

"You provide no diversity, _no_ new insights, _no_ advancement," she ranted. "You bring only chaos and senseless _deaths_."

Right. Because all asari certainly offered diversity, insights and advancement by stripping away in bars. And they did a bang-up job of avoiding chaos and death when hiring themselves out as mercs.

All of that passed through my mind in a nanosecond. "Why are you so prejudiced against aliens?" I asked without another beat.

She huffed in disgust. "Where do I begin?"

Here's a 'short-sighted' idea: from the beginning.

"With salarian explorers unleashing the rachni upon us, then unleashing the krogan to correct their mistake? Or the turians, so eager to bomb every problem away? Or humans, the new arrivals who already think they should be in charge?"

She ran a hand over her head fringe before finishing: "Every war that has plagued this galaxy has been caused by your people. My people's deaths are on your hands."

Somehow, I doubted she was speaking on behalf of all asari. "Whose deaths are we talking about, exactly?"

For the first time, tears welled in her eyes. I had the sudden feeling that they weren't tears of anger. "The mother of my daughters was killed on the quarian homeworld during the initial geth uprising," she said quietly before turning away. "My daughters died on the Citadel when the geth attacked. One worked in one of the embassies. The other was a greeter for the Consort."

Turning back, she looked at us with a calm, but dull, expression on her face. No, not dull. Numb. Tired. "I am not speaking in hypotheticals, human. The aliens will never be my allies. The best they can do is give me useful medical data."

I would later learn that she was a 'pureblood.' Her partner was asari, which would make her daughters purebloods as well. For the moment, though, all I knew was that I was onto something. It would have been hard to deal with her while she was all fired up with xenophobic outrage. But now that I had withstood the initial onslaught, she seemed exhausted. Now was the time to press my advantage.

"Why was your bondmate on the quarian homeworld?" I asked. **(5)**

"Studying the quarians," she replied softly. "Not their technology, but their music. She loved all their art. Said they had old souls. I think that's where my daughters got it from. Both of them loved talking with people, exploring new cultures."

"They sound like wonderful people," I said sympathetically. "The galaxy is lesser for their loss."

"Yes, it is." She was tearing up again. Clearly, our chat had worn her down. Time to move in for the kill. **(6)** "Do you think they'd want you to do this?"

At first, she protested. Weakly, though, without any of the anger she had expressed at the beginning. "I'm not... I didn't..."

Then her jaw sagged as it finally hit home. "Oh..." She dropped to her knees.

I let her weep for a minute before walking over and extending a hand. She stared at it dumbly for a while before taking it and letting me pull her to her feet. Then I stood there and let the silence do the rest.

"I'm... sending an amended contract," she finally whispered. "No more tests. No more fees. There's enough grief in this galaxy. I don't need to add to it."

I couldn't have put it better myself, so I let her walk away.

"It appears you gave her some food for thought."

It was Miranda—and the rest of the squad. "Yeah," I shrugged. "Just helping an old acquaintance out by talking to that asari. Now I've got to help Liara." I quickly brought the squad up to speed.

"Sounds like fun," Kasumi chirped.

"Sounds boring," Zaeed grumbled.

"Sounds like a hunt," Grunt said.

"Only you don't get to eat it," Jacob pointed out.

"Sounds boring," Grunt decided.

While they were debating the merits of this hacking job, I found a vulnerable security node near the local Tracking Office and hacked it. Based on the findings, I had... sixty seconds to find whatever server was rendered vulnerable. Great.

I wasted a couple seconds reconfiguring my sensors so I could locate this server. The best I could do was whip up a vague distance meter. I tentatively took a couple steps forward. Nope, wrong direction. Backwards—okay, now I was getting somewhere. Wherever this server was, it was roughly thirty metres behind me. I covered five of those metres before realizing I was stuck. Supposedly, it was somewhere in front of me. Unfortunately, I couldn't exactly go forward without vaulting over a rail and plunging all the way to the ground—which would definitely be in the wrong direction. So left or right? I picked left.

Of course, the correct choice to pick was right. By the time I figured that out, I had thirty-eight seconds to go. It looked like the server was near Baria Frontiers, where that bitter asari I'd just talked to was hanging out, so I checked out over there. Whoops—apparently, I went past it. I tried to double-back, only to realize that the squad was intent on following me. By the time I politely side-stepped around, pushed and shoved past them, I only had fifteen seconds left. Luckily, I managed to find the server in time.

"Okay, that was fun," I said, "but I think we can do this more efficiently."

"I don't know," Kasumi said casually. "It was kind of fun watching you go back and forth and sideways."

"Just like your rounds on the Normandy," Miranda added.

"He did that on the old Normandy too," Garrus chuckled. "This really is—"

"Say it's 'just like old times,' and I'll tell Gardner to put laxatives in your rations," I warned.

"—very familiar," Garrus finished without missing a beat.

"Anyway," I said loudly, "we can do this more efficiently. Everybody spread out and cover the ground. That way, once I find and hack a security node, we'll be able to triangulate the exact location of the server that was opened up without all this back-and-forth nonsense."

That plan worked like a charm: find a security node, hack it, find another terminal that was rendered vulnerable and set up a transfer. Rinse, repeat, done.

Before I left to report back to Liara, I checked in with Shiala. Judging by the beaming smile on her face, I gathered things went well.

"You did it!" she cried out happily. "I just got the revised contracts. Thank you, Shepard. You've saved Zhu's Hope again."

"It was my pleasure," I smiled. "It's nice to help without having to draw my guns." I meant that—trigger finger gets tired after a while, you know.

"I don't think I could have..."she broke off for a second. "Is it always like this?" she asked. "Yesterday's problems lingering in some new form? Isn't anything ever just fixed?"

Why was she asking me? She was the one with a thousand-year lifespan? Apparently solving her problem meant that I had all the answers. If only it really worked that way. "You've got the power to make a difference, Shiala," I replied. "Not everyone does."

That seemed to satisfy her. "You're right," she said. "You gave us a chance by saving the colony. I can't let them down. I won't. Thank you for what you've done here, Shepard. I'll keep doing what I can."

"Can't ask for much more," I nodded.

"Maybe some time when I'm not organizing the colony and you're not... doing whatever you do..."

She gripped my shoulder for a moment before leaving. I stared after her for a moment.

Did I just receive a proposition?

* * *

><p>I decided it would be safer—and less confusing—to just head back to Liara. Miranda wanted to peruse the kiosks for anything that might help us out, so Garrus, Tali and I went up to Liara's office while the others went window shopping.<p>

"Shepard," Liara smiled. "Thank you for getting me that system data. Here." She handed over a pile of credits. "It is not much," she apologized, "but hopefully it will help you on your mission."

"What exactly was that data about?" I asked.

"Do you remember the Shadow Broker?"

Ah yes. Best information broker in the business. Was a bit peeved when some of his agents tried to go freelance during my hunt for Saren. Got even more peeved when I refused to hand over data on Cerberus to him. "I remember," I said.

"With the data you got me, I may be able to find information caches from his agents," Liara explained.

"Why is that so important? Are you on the run from the Shadow Broker?"

Liara's smile suddenly got a lot colder. "Actually, it would be more accurate to say that the Shadow Broker is on the run from me. We crossed paths not long after you died. Since then, I have been working to take him down."

She emphasized that last sentence by slamming her hand on the desk in anger, rattling everything on it. "With this data," she continued, "I am one step closer."

"Liara!" Tali gasped. "Isn't this a little extreme?"

"Just a little?" Garrus asked mildly.

This was definitely not the Liara I knew two years ago. "I've never seen you ready to execute someone in cold blood," I admitted. "What did the Shadow Broker do to you?"

"I was on a job with a friend," Liara replied. "The Shadow Broker's people caught us. My friend didn't escape. I don't know if he's dead or being interrogated, but I need to find him. I owe him my life. And I need to make the Shadow Broker pay for what he did."

"I don't suppose you could continue your work on the Normandy?" I asked. "Or maybe I could help you find him?" Anything that could get her off her private quest for revenge.

"I wish it was that easy," Liara said, "but the galaxy doesn't work that way. Finding the Shadow Broker will take time. I need to find leads, trace information. I can't do that on the Normandy. I wish I could. I'm sorry."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Liara glanced back and forth between me and some data on her terminal, then nodded. "The data you gave me was extremely helpful. It gave me a target. The Shadow Broker has several contacts here on Illium. The most powerful is someone called the Observer. Taking the Observer down will put me closer to the Shadow Broker. I could use your help."

Guess not all asari with issues could be reasoned with. "Tell me what I can do to help," I sighed.

"Your data pointed me at logs kept by Shadow Broker agents," Liara told me. "The logs were deleted, but it may be possible to reconstruct some of it. The Shadow Broker is cautious, though. His agents are referred to only by their title and race."

Behind us, Nyxeris spoke up for the first time. "My inquiries have narrowed the Observer down to one of five operatives: a turian, a salarian, a krogan, a batarian and a vorcha."

Liara took over from her. "If you can refine the list, I will know where to strike."

"Do you have any specifics on these agents?"

Liara shook her head. "They are rumoured to send and receive orders using public terminals around Nos Astra, but that is all. Nyxeris was lucky to get as much as she did."

"I was happy to help, ma'am," Nyxeris said.

"The data is our only hope of determining which one is the Observer," Liara concluded. "And if we wait too long, they will all disappear."

"All right," I agreed. "I'll reconstruct the data and tell you what I find."

"Thank you, Shepard," Liara replied. "When you find something, call me on the comm channel we used in the old days. I cannot risk handling this in person."

* * *

><p>We met Miranda and the rest of the squad on the trading floor, just outside the stairs leading to Liara's office. I filled them in on her latest request.<p>

"This will go a lot faster if we split into teams," Jacob suggested. "Cover more ground, you know."

"Exactly," Garrus nodded. "And it'll be less conspicuous than ten people walking together."

"Are you sure Liara didn't go into any specifics regarding the job where she ran into the Shadow Broker's people?" Miranda asked.

"Yes." Miranda seemed quite intent on that question. "Why?"

She paused for a moment before answering: "I think Liara needs to be the one to tell you."

I gave her a hard look. "Do you know something about this?"

"Yes," Miranda replied. "But, judging by what you said of Liara's... state of mind, I think she needs to be the one to tell you."

I decided to let it go for now. If need be, I could always ask her again later. Without being so nice. For now, it was time to hack some terminals. We split up into teams, assigned ourselves areas to search and began hunting for terminals. After a couple hours, we reconvened and compared notes. All we got for our trouble were a couple data points in the form of text fragments.

Garrus was the first to react, muttering something under his breath—probably in his native tongue—that I couldn't understand. It didn't sound good, though. "Garrus?"

"Take another look at the text fragments," he told me. "Focus on the descriptions of the potential targets."

I did what he said.

"… _trader tried to kill the batarian. Claims it was because he hates slavers, but the men were more likely fighting over money. Watch for now…" _

"_Smuggler and assassin have refused to work with vorcha due to lack of trust. Odd to see scruples from the men at this point." _

"_The turian's asking too many questions. Observer recommends terminating him and framing assassin or salarian contact." _

"_Turian contact working well with trader. Observer has rescinded kill order against him, given difficulty in securing contact with the trader through other methods." _

"_Vorcha trader has requested no further contact with the salarian. Salarian is becoming more trouble than he is worth. Observer recommends a kill, but she may have a grudge."_

Now it was Miranda's turn to swear. "I still don't get it," I confessed.

"What is the gender of each suspect?" Garrus asked me.

"Male."

"And the Observer?"

I looked through each text fragment. When I got to the last one, I read it once. Then again. Then it was my turn to curse. Reaching up to my ear, I activated my comm and contacted Liara.

"_Shepard,"_ she replied immediately. _"Did you get any information on the Observer?"_

"All five of the suspects are male," I reported. "But the Observer is _female_. Something's not right."

"_But that doesn't make any sense. Nyxeris gave me the information. Why would she... give me the information... unless..."_

I focused on the tone of her voice. Granted the intel was clearly faulty, but Liara sounded as if she thought it was deliberate. Before I could say anything—

"_Nyxeris,"_ Liara called out sweetly, _"could I see you in here for a moment?"_ Then she quickly said _"Shepard, I'll talk to you later"_ before cutting off our communications.

"Liara? Liara? Damnit!"

"Maybe it was an innocent mistake on Nyxeris's part," Tali suggested nervously. "Maybe Liara just wants to tell her to be more careful in verifying her intel next time."

Garrus and I—the only other people who had talked to Liara so far—exchanged looks. "Do you really think it's going to be so civil?" he asked.

"Oh Keelah," Tali breathed.

"Let's get back there, pronto!" I suggested.

We double-timed it back to Liara's office. When we barged in, we saw a few shards from a broken vase, a large dent in the wall, and a large splatter of blood. Turning to Liara, we saw her sitting at her desk, calmly typing away at her computer. "Shepard!" she greeted us. "It's good to see you again."

It couldn't have taken us more than fifteen or twenty minutes to get back. In that time, the office had been subject to an interrogation, summary execution and preliminary cleanup. I couldn't help but be a little impressed.

"Nyxeris had some interesting data hidden away," Liara informed me. "Thank you, Shepard. I wouldn't have caught her without you. I'm one step closer to the Shadow Broker now. Here."

She reached over with some more credits. "Nyxeris was very well-compensated. You need it more than I do."

"Looks like we missed quite a fight," I said casually. "Did you have any trouble with Nyxeris?"

"She was very talented," Liara conceded. "I imagine that, had she been ordered to assassinate me, I'd never have seen her coming. But her barriers needed practise. Practise I'm afraid she won't be getting."

Ulp. "So what's the next step?" I asked.

"Now I gather information, peel away layers of lies, and shine light into the shadows. The Shadow Broker can't hide forever. I'll keep hunting him." Her eyes blazed with a burning... hatred, I guess as she talked. "And when I find him, I'll hit him with a biotic field so strong that what's left of his body will fit into a coffee cup."

The fact that there was a steaming cup of coffee on her desk made that comment a little bit creepier. "Careful, Liara," I said. "Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. That's the path to the dark side."

"The path to the what?" she asked blankly.** (7) **

"Never mind," I sighed. "Look, all that anger can't be just from what you've told me. "What else happened between you and the Shadow Broker?"

Liara quickly got up from her desk and turned to look out the window. I waited. After a minute, she started speaking in a soft voice. "Did Ms. Lawson ever tell you how Cerberus recovered your body?"

The rest of the squad jerked their heads towards Miranda in unison. "No," I said slowly. "She didn't."

"We worked together to retrieve your body," she whispered. "To do that, I had to take it from the Shadow Broker, who was going to sell your corpse to the Collectors."

Okay, that was creepy. Why the heck were the Collectors so interested in my dead body? I wasn't _that _special.

And when I got it, I gave it to Cerberus," she said miserably, sitting back down. "I gave _you _to them, Shepard. Because they said they could rebuild you."

"Okay, so now I know." I scratched my head in confusion. "I still don't understand why you didn't tell me about this before now?"

Her eyes welled up with tears. "Because I screwed it up, Shepard," she replied. "I barely escaped with my own life. My friend sacrificed himself to buy me the time I needed to get away. And when I gave you to Cerberus, I told myself I was doing it for you. For a chance to bring you back."

She was definitely crying at this point. "But I knew Cerberus would use you for their own business. And I let it happen. Because I couldn't let you go. I'm sorry."

Now I could see why Miranda thought Liara should—no, _needed_—to spill the beans. "You did the right thing, Liara," I reassured her. "My mission is important. I couldn't do it if you hadn't given me to Cerberus."

Yes, I'm giving Cerberus, the group that screwed tons of people—most recently yours truly—over, two thumbs up. Frankly, Liara needed to hear that.

My decision was vindicated almost immediately. "Thank you," she smiled through her tears. It looked like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. "I... I was afraid you'd hate me."

"Nah," I waved it off. "It's not your fault that their logo's so ugly."

I heard a snort behind me, though I couldn't tell from whom. Liara gave another tentative smile before getting back to business. "So that's why I must destroy the Shadow Broker. For what he did to my friend, and to you, and whatever he's doing with the Collectors."

"Be careful out there, Liara," I warned. "Don't turn into the thing you're hunting."

She smiled again. "Says the dead Spectre working for Cerberus," she teased.

"_With _Cerberus," I corrected automatically.

"I stand corrected. Don't worry, Shepard. I'm not my mother. Everything I am doing, I am doing of my own free will. For better or for worse."

It was the latter part that concerned me, and not just because she seemed more willing to use contractions. But clearly I wouldn't be able to recruit her. Not while she was obsessed with her own personal quest for revenge.

* * *

><p>I was deep in thought on my way back to the trading floor, so I almost missed seeing Gianna. Heck, I probably would've missed her if she hadn't waved at me. And hollered. I asked the rest of the squad to go occupy themselves with something nearby while I sat down and chatted with her.<p>

"Hermia's going to be a very poor woman very shortly. Thanks for the help, Shepard." Gianna smiled like a cat that'd scored a nice dollop of cream. "I love nailing asari. So ageless and superior—then you bust them and they squeal like schoolgirls."

Put that way, it _was _rather satisfying. "It must be nice having a job that you really enjoy," I said. As opposed to a job that could get you killed on a daily basis. "How'd you get started, anyway?"

"I wanted to be a cop, or C-Sec," Gianna admitted, "but my family had bills. I needed the money a corporate job brought in. Besides, in this job, you don't see things that make it hard to sleep at night. White-collar crime is nice and clean."

Couldn't argue with that.

"Hell, at least this time I didn't have to wear heels and a dress."

That was true. She wore both the first time I met her. If I remembered correctly, she hated them. Well, the skirts at least. "How did you end up on Noveria, anyway? There are lots of corporate jobs out there."

"Scholarship program and a competitive internship," she replied. "Turned out I was only middling at the sciences, but I could always ferret out secrets. You grow up poor and surrounded by rich kids, you get good at hiding yourself. Helps with going undercover."

"So what's next for you?"

"Research," she said. "We've had some hacking attacks lately and I want to make sure they're external. A lot of people are suddenly interested in dark energy. My bosses want to know if it's something to worry about."

"Dark energy," I repeated. "You know, a new colleague of mine was doing some research of her own. Dark energy was brought up as a possible cause for the findings."

"Really?" Gianna mused. "Do you think—?"

"It's not really my call, but I'll talk to her," I nodded. "See if she has a copy that she can pass along."

"Thanks," Gianna said gratefully. "Here's my contact info if she gets the okay. Anyway, this research gig will hold me over until I have to go back undercover."

"Sounds like you do that quite a bit," I noted. "It must be hard going undercover so often."

"It's not so bad," she shrugged. "Go new places, be new people. The only weird part is when you go home and try to talk to people and you forget how to react. Like it's another cover, you know?"

"Yeah, but deep down, part of you likes fooling people," I pointed out. "That's what makes you good at it."

"Part of me, yeah," she admitted. "I grew up poor and working class. Now I walk around the rich and powerful, taking notes, getting evidence. And they never see me coming."

I got a beep from my omni-tool. It was a message from Miranda:

_**Meeting with Lanteia in five minutes.**_

Right. That thing I said I'd do for Miranda. "I've got to go," I told Gianna. "It's been a pleasure."

"You too, Shepard," Gianna replied. "See you around."

We got up from the table. Gianna looked at me like she couldn't decide what to do next. "Ah, hell with it," she suddenly said.

Then she leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Much better than an autograph," she grinned. "Take care of yourself, Shepard." **(8)**

Bemused, I joined the rest of the squad. They all looked at me with a variety of expressions, ranging from shocked to impressed to amused.

Garrus coughed to get my attention. "You remember what I said earlier, Shepard?" he asked. "About how my getting these scars would give you a chance with the ladies?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't think you'd take me seriously."

"Very funny, Garrus."

* * *

><p><em>(1): Indentured servitude on Illium is severely restricted in terms of the services required. The myriad laws and regulations involved absolutely forbids any form of abuse, is strictly monitored by authorities and is considered a legitimate source of work credentials when applying for future jobs. Nonetheless, the practise is still abhorred within Citadel space and dismissed as a weak attempt to 'copy' slavery in the Terminus Systems. <em>

_(2): This alludes to an assignment Shepard took on as a personal favour, which will be covered in his next personnel report._

_(3): As usual, Shepard downplays his own skills and talents. _

_(4): Some people might point to this as an example of Shepard's selflessness and innate desire to help people. Others might cite this as another example of Shepard indulging his obsessive curiosity. I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between._

_(5): Shepard deliberately used the asari colloquial term to describe a long-term companion, similar to the human term 'partner' or 'cohabitant.' _

_(6): I don't think Shepard intended to come across as a hunter or manipulator, but there is no denying that he had an almost instinctive knack on how to respond and deal with people, regardless of their species or how long he had known them. More importantly, it is likely that this asari had been bottling up her anger and grief for at least 290 years—in the case of her bondmate—two of which were compounded by the loss of her daughters during the Battle of the Citadel._

_(7): A slightly modified quote from the twentieth and twenty-first century multimedia series Star Wars._

_(8): Shepard completed numerous tasks on Illium in addition to his various recruitment efforts, but he only mentioned some of them in this log. I wonder if Shepard subconsciously focused on these encounters because they involved people he helped in the past and was able to help again. _


	18. Personnel Report: Miranda Lawson

_Editorial Note: This personnel report focuses on Shepard's executive officer, Miranda Lawson. It includes numerous conversations spanning from the completion of Professor Solus's recruitment to a personal mission conducted on Illium. _

**Personnel Report—Miranda Lawson**

To say Miranda Lawson had an infamous reputation would be putting it mildly.

You see, the crew of the Normandy had various opinions about our XO. A small minority regarded her as the second-in-command. Jack called her 'Princess' or 'Cheerleader.' Many ogled her from a safe distance. Several others took jabs at her, such as calling her 'Ice Queen' or 'That Bitch.'

For example, I recalled a conversation I overheard between Ken and Gabby down in Engineering. "I've got green across the board," Gabby was reporting. "The forward tanks are buoyant and elevated."

"Are you talking about the Normandy," Ken asked slyly, "or Miranda?"

"I'm talking about the ones that are covered and protected, not bouncing in the breeze," Gabby snapped.

"I don't know," Ken leered. "Operative Lawson's uniform is very official. It always makes _me _stand at attention."

"You're such a dog," Gabby muttered.

Regardless of these disparate viewpoints, there was one thing most people could agree on: Miranda was very scary and intimidating. The general consensus was to follow her commands, hope they didn't contradict anyone else's, and stay as far away from her as possible. Mostly out of self-preservation. Since my self-preservation had atrophied long before Cerberus patched me up, I blithely ignored that nugget of wisdom. Besides, I had to indulge my curiosity.

Aside from our chat when I was first meeting and greeting everyone on the Normandy, we hadn't had a chance to talk. It was time to rectify that, I decided, shortly after recruiting Mordin.

"Hey Miranda," I said. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I'm just finishing an operation report. I'm impressed, Shepard. So far, things have gone exceptionally well. As far as Cerberus operations go, this is one of the best I've been a part of."

High—and rare—praise from her, I was sure. "Maybe that's because this _isn't_ a Cerberus operation," I suggested.

"Not to you, maybe," she replied. "But I report directly to the Illusive Man. And I'm here because he wants me to be. Cerberus gave you a second chance, Commander. Maybe you should do the same for us."

Uh huh. I'm a dumb grunt, not a stupid one. Still, if listening to the sales pitch meant getting some intel and satisfying my curiosity, who was I to say no? "Cerberus obviously has your loyalty. How did you get involved with them?"

She considered that question for a second. "I suppose you've earned the right to know," she said at last, gesturing towards the sofa across from her desk. As I sat down, she started to talk. "Do you remember when I told you how I was genetically altered?"

"Intelligence, strength, looks, immune system," I rattled off. "The whole nine yards."

"Well, that wasn't my choice," Miranda said. "My father... created me."

Created?

"He's a very influential man and _extremely _controlling. He didn't want a daughter—he wanted a dynasty. I ran away as soon as I was old and brave enough. I went to Cerberus because I knew they could protect me."

I had to admit that this conversation had taken a few unexpected turns. Of all the reasons one could theoretically have for joining Cerberus, this was Miranda's. At least, this was the one she _gave_. Was this a rare admission—perhaps the first time she'd ever told anyone? Because no one had bothered to sit down and ask, too cowed by her usual icy demeanour or awestruck by her undeniable beauty? Maybe it was a bit of quid pro quo. By her admission, I'd proven that I wasn't a one-trick pony and had earned the right to get a couple answers. Or maybe she was playing me. Using the cruel-father card—which might not even be true—simply to tug at the ol' heartstrings.

I decided to continue. If nothing else, I was getting her to talk freely, which was a vast improvement over our prior conversations. "How bad were the terms you and your father parted on?"

"Shots were fired."

Yeah, that was pretty bad. If this was true, no wonder she held Cerberus in such high regard. It was like a civvie joining the Alliance to get out of the slums. "You seem capable of defending yourself," I noted. "Why did you need Cerberus?"

"My father invested a great deal in his dynasty. It wasn't a matter of just leaving. I knew he would continue to pursue his... investments." She said that last word with a certain emphasis.

"Who exactly is your father?" I asked curiously.

"A businessman," she replied vaguely. "But a very wealthy one. It's ironic—my father believed deeply in a human-positive agenda. He donated generously to Cerberus... before I joined them. That's how I first heard about Cerberus—through my father's connections."

"What happened to your mother?"

"I never had one," she said sadly. "Most of my genetic material is based on my father's tissues. All except his Y chromosome, which was altered with an amalgam of desired traits from various sources." She paused for a moment, positively quivering. "How arrogant can you be? The man is completely egomaniacal. Just another reason I had to get away from him."

Emotion. Definitely emotion. The question was why. Either she was telling the truth, and it was still a sore and painful subject, or she was continuing to spin another sob-story, in which case she was one hell of an actress. If it was the former, that brought up another question: what did it say about Miranda if the only parent she had was one she so thoroughly hated? Was she a rebel, striking out against a cruel and unfeeling daddy? Was she an insecure wreck, alternatively lashing out at everyone while desperately seeking approval? Was she a fighter, forged in the fires of adversity and suffering, tempered into an unyielding and uncompromising woman? Who was she? Who was Miranda?

The fact that I kept asking questions while the hamster wheels in my brain kept spinning probably speaks volumes about my insatiable curiosity. "I assume that Cerberus approves of your enhanced abilities?" I guessed.

"Of course," Miranda confirmed. "Cerberus fully endorses anything that advances the cause of humanity—genetic alterations included. But unlike my father and his own selfish reasons, Cerberus and the Illusive Man believe in a greater good. They see the bigger picture... and I feel like I have a purpose here."

Despite the obvious difference in feelings that she had for her father and Cerberus, there was a common thread running underneath. "You talk about yourself like... I dunno, like you're an asset or tool. Something that your father or Cerberus can use. If I've understood you correctly, anything they did for you was an investment, to use your words, so you could better meet their ends."

"Maybe," she admitted. "I like to know where I fit in the galaxy. It helps me find meaning in how I was created."

_Created_. Boy was that impersonal or what? "You are who you are, Miranda," I said. "You don't need to word it as if you're making excuses or anything."

A bitter look flashed across her face, gone before I knew it. "That's easy for you to say," she replied, without a hint of the rancour I'd just glimpsed. "We've both been engineered for greatness, Shepard. The difference is you were great before we rebuilt you... I'm great because of it."

So despite that veneer of professionalism and perfection, deep down, Miranda had some serious insecurity issues. "Miranda, it's been years since I took any genetics classes, but I'm pretty sure they haven't discovered a gene for greatness. It's your spirit and personality that make you great. Hell, it's what makes anyone great."

For the first time in our conversation, she gave a slight smile. "That's kind of you. I'm not sure I believe you, but thanks for saying it."

* * *

><p>I would never have guessed Miranda felt that way about herself based on her performance. She did a bang-up job handling the day-to-day operations aboard the Normandy. Better than I did when I was XO. Her abilities to analyze situations and execute plans on the battlefield were remarkable, especially for a civvie. Not to mention the diverse skill set she could employ against all sorts of enemies. And yet, she didn't feel like she deserved any recognition or accolades for her accomplishments. As much as she tried to hide it, she definitely felt quite strongly about this.<p>

To be honest, I was quite curious about that, but Miranda refused to talk about it. Or anything else that didn't involve the Mission, for that matter. So I was rather surprised when, shortly after Horizon, Kelly told me she wanted to talk to me. As soon as possible.

"Shepard," she said in a quiet, but tense, voice, "I find myself in the unpleasant position of asking for your help. I don't like discussing personal matters... but this is important."

It had clearly taken a lot for her to admit that, so I didn't pinch myself to check that I was dreaming. "What's going on?"

"You remember what I told you about Father?" she asked. "Building a dynasty?"

"Yep."

"There was another reason I went to Cerberus for protection." Miranda got up and started pacing around the office. "I have a sister," she revealed. "A twin."

Well. This was a fascinating development. Joining Cerberus to hide from Daddy is one thing, as it basically boiled down to trading service for safety. Joining it to protect your sister was another matter entirely, as it meant that part of that safety was for _someone else_. That kind of altruism, particularly when combined with her usual cold facade, lent a lot more credence to the possibility that she had been honest with me from the beginning. "What was the deal, exactly? You join Cerberus and let it reap the benefits of your intelligence and talents, in exchange for her safety?"

Miranda shook her head. "Not exactly. I wanted my sister to have a normal life, away from machinations and agendas. She would never have that as long as she was with my father. Nor would she have that with Cerberus. The deal was that I would join Cerberus. In return, they would set her up with a foster family who would raise her like any other child—well, any exceptionally gifted child—and keep Father's operatives away. Up until now, they've succeeded. Father has been chasing false leads for over a decade while Cerberus kept her safe. But he still kept searching. And now he's found her."

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Illium."

"You're sure your father has tracked her down?"

"Positive, Commander," she nodded, biting her lip in the process. "My sources indicate he knows that she's on Illium. I've tried to keep her hidden without impacting her life, inserting my own false intel to mask her whereabouts, but I'm out of options."

I don't think I'd ever seen or heard her so worried or panicked. She needed to stop and take a deep breath to calm down before continuing. "He's too close. I need to relocate my sister's family before it's too late."

Now I could see why she had wanted to talk to me. Technically, this had no direct impact on the mission, which meant she couldn't override my authority as ranking Cerberus officer and order me to Illium—not that I would have listened anyway. She had to convince me to make a detour.

Granted, this could still be a setup. An elaborate hoax to trick me into sympathizing with one of the most strident and obvious pro-Cerberus operatives on my ship. But if she wasn't pulling a fast one and her sister really was in danger... could I really take that risk and do nothing? Besides, I knew what I would do if I were in her shoes. Boots. Whatever. "What else can you tell me about your sister?" I asked.

"She's my genetic twin. We're identical. But she deserves a normal life," Miranda said firmly. "And she's going to get it, no matter what."

"Does your sister's family know about this? Are they okay with being relocated?"

Miranda shook her head. "They know nothing. They're completely uninvolved. Normal. I told Cerberus and they're coming up with a positive reason to move the family."

That was the second time she said the word 'normal.' Plus, she'd used Cerberus resources to arrange an emergency relocation. Clearly there was something else that was just as important to her—if not more—than the mission. "Okay," I agreed. "What do you need me to do?"

She sighed in relief. "My father is extremely persistent. I'd like to go to Illium when Cerberus is moving the family to make sure none of his agents get too close."

"We have to head to Illium eventually to recruit Thane and Samara," I said. "No reason we can't take care of that as well."

"I've already set up the relocation to coincide with when we're most likely to arrive," Miranda nodded.

Of course she did.

"My contact's name is Lanteia. She'll be waiting for us in the Eternity lounge, near the Nos Astra docking bay."

* * *

><p>At the time, I wasn't sure exactly where I was going to go or how long it would have taken. But apparently Miranda did. We wound up meeting her contact the day we arrived on Illium, about ten hours after we left the Normandy.<p>

When we arrived at the private room in the lounge, an asari was waiting for us. "Ms. Lawson, I'm glad you made it," she said without preamble. "We've had a complication."

"What happened, Lanteia?" Miranda asked immediately. "Is Oriana all right?"

Given that Miranda had never actually stated her twin's name before, I took a wild stab in the dark and guessed that Oriana was the sister in question.

"She's fine," Lanteia reassured her. "But... you listed a man named Niket as your trusted source? He contacted me, warning that your father had sent Eclipse mercenaries to make a sweep. He suggested that the mercs might be watching for you personally. He's offered to escort Oriana's family to the terminal instead."

"Who is this 'Niket'?" I asked. "You didn't mention anything about him."

"He's a friend," Miranda replied. "He and I go back a long way."

"Do you want to bring in any of your other Illium contacts, Ms. Lawson?" Lanteia asked.

"No," Miranda shook her head. "You and Niket are the only two I trust on this."

"Is there anything you can do about the mercenaries?" I asked.

Lanteia shrugged. "I could try to alert the authorities, but so far they've done nothing illegal."

"You made the right decision," Miranda reassured her. "We'll handle this ourselves."

"It's your sister, Miranda," I said. "What do you want to do?"

Miranda quickly came to a decision. "Lanteia, follow Niket's suggestion. We'll take the car and draw their attention. Have Niket escort the family to the shuttle. Give him full access to the family's itinerary, just to be safe."

"Understood, Ms. Lawson."

I raised a hand. "Just so I'm clear: the plan is for us to get shot down by Eclipse while your sister gets to safety?"

"Eclipse will be under orders to take my sister alive," Miranda said. "They won't risk anything that could kill us."

Presumably because they didn't want to accidentally shoot the woman they were being paid to 'rescue' just because she bore an uncanny resemblance to a hostile party. "Speaking of which," I frowned, "I doubt Eclipse will send all their people just to stop you. Do you want to give Niket any backup?"

"Niket can take care of himself," Miranda replied. "Besides, any armed backup just draws attention to him."

Eh. Fair point. "I'm ready whenever you are, Miranda."

We paused long enough to break up the squad into teams, allowing for the capacity of aircars to hold four people. In the end, we settled on Miranda, Grunt, Kasumi and I in Team One; Garrus, Jack and Tali in Team Two; and Jacob, Zaeed and Mordin in Team Three. **(1)** As long as we could scrounge up enough aircars, we'd be fine.

Miranda glanced at me as we walked away. "Thank you, Shepard. I appreciate this. I hadn't planned on Eclipse... but they never planned on you."

Story of my life.

* * *

><p>While we got all the aircars we'd need, Miranda plotted a route that would intercept the Eclipse mercenaries. Then we got in, flew off and waited to get noticed.<p>

That didn't take long.

"Damn it!" Miranda swore, looking out the window. Turning my head in the direction she was looking at, I uttered a similar curse. "Gunships," I identified. "Probably Eclipse."

"They'll be dropping troops in the cargo areas," Miranda guessed.

As long as they did that and not shoot us down. Hopefully these particular gunships were optimized for transport only. I opened the comm to the rest of the squad. "Land in that cover behind them," I ordered, highlighting the designated area with a waypoint marker.

"Let's hope they really do want to take us alive," Kasumi murmured.

A second later, gunfire started ricocheting off the aircar chassis. "Hope everyone got their seatbelts buckled," I said, immediately weaving the aircar in random vectors to keep the mercs guessing. Unfortunately, the aircar wasn't as responsive as I'd like, thanks to all the damage we'd taken. The only saving grace was that the gunfire was indeed coming from the ground, rather than the gunships. We wound up bouncing off the ground before skidding to a halt. As the other aircars touched down, my team popped out.

"I got this," the merc leader said to his mercs, striding forward. He was wearing a high-grade hardsuit, but eschewed a helmet, relying on his tech armour to protect his head. **(2)**

"Since you're not firing yet, I trust you know who I am," Miranda called out.

"Yeah," they said you'd be in the car," he confirmed. "You're the bitch that kidnapped our boss's little girl."

Miranda took exception to that. "_Kidnapped_? You clearly don't know what you're doing. I suggest you take your men and go."

"Think you've got it all lined up, huh?" the merc boss sneered. "Captain Enyala's already moving in on the kid. She knows about Niket. He won't be helping you."

"What do you mean, Niket won't be helping us?" I asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about," the boss said, waving me off. "Nobody's going to get killed unless you do something stupid. You walk away now, the girl goes back to her father, and everybody's happy."

"Everybody but my sister," Miranda retorted. "And me."

"Maybe we should talk to Captain Enyala about this?" I suggested. "Try to work this out."

The leader grinned. "You don't want to talk to the captain. She's not as... polite... as I am. She's the best commando I've ever seen. I've seen her tear people in half with her biotics. And she's getting paid a lot to stop you."

"She gets in my way, she'll never have a chance to spend it," Miranda snapped.

"Ease up, lady," he laughed. "We just want the kid."

The hell?

"Miranda, why is he saying Oriana's a 'kid'?" I murmured. "You said she was your twin sister." I mean, Miranda looked good—real good—for her age, but no one would go so far as to call her a kid.

The boss overheard me. "Is that what she told you?" he laughed. "No, this crazy bitch kidnapped our boss's baby daughter. He's been looking for her for more than a decade."

"It's complicated, Shepard," Miranda quickly said. "We share the same DNA, just not the same birthday."

"You took a baby from the richest guy in the galaxy, lady," the boss scowled. "I don't know what your damage is, but you're not getting away with it."

Clearly I didn't have the whole picture, but now wasn't the time to play Twenty Questions. "You're not getting Miranda's sister," I returned. "If you push this, it'll go badly for you."

He crossed his arms. "Captain Enyala ordered us to give you one chance to walk away. But this whole time we've been talking, my men have been lining up shots."

As he swaggered forward, I glanced around, determining where everybody—and everything—was. Now if someone could get a little closer.

Boss guy politely obliged, getting in my face and snarled "When I say the word, we unleash hell on your squad. So I suggest you walk away nicely, unless you want things to get ugly."

I glanced at Miranda and the rest of the squad. Catching on, they each gave a barely perceptible nod. Looking back at the Eclipse boss, I tilted my head in confusion. "Just how ugly are we talking about, here?"

"Huh?"

"Do you mean 'mildly unpleasant' or 'not fit for polite company'? Or maybe you meant 'nauseating'. That I can handle. I mean, I'm a big boy. I've seen my share of uncomfortable situations. As long as we stick to that, I'll be okay. But please, please don't tell me it's worse than that. Tell me you don't mean 'Oh for the love of God, close your eyes, it's _hideous_.' 'Cause if that's what you're talking about—"

My little ramble caused quite a bit of distraction, judging by all the looks of confusion and—more importantly—gradual lowering of weapons. Seizing the moment, Miranda reached to her hip and pulled out her pistol. The leader immediately turned his attention to her. Taking advantage of his distraction, I pulled him towards me, got a good grip on his head and snapped his neck. **(3) **

As the leader crumpled to the ground, Miranda and the rest of the squad was laying down cover fire. I grabbed my own pistol and started shooting at the clamps of a freight crane. It took about seven shots before the clamps snapped open; dropping the cargo crate it was carrying on top of a pair of mercs. The crate exploded, sending one of them flying through the air. He bounced off another crate, barely missing a salarian merc—who dropped his pistol and stared after him, mouth gaping open. Funniest thing I'd seen so far.

Miranda took advantage of his distraction to zap his shields. Next thing he knew, he was on fire, courtesy of yours truly. Garrus led Team Two forward to a small platform while Team Three took cover behind some barrels on our left. Looking around, my sensors ID'd a merc who had better shields than the typical rank and file. I signalled everyone to focus on him. With my luck, they were the ones who'd have better weapons. Or could generate those annoying combat drones.

Kasumi drained most of that guy's shields. Grunt's weapons fire took care of the rest. He would have continued firing if Zaeed's concussive round hadn't blown his head off. He turned back and roared "No stealing! That one was mine!"

"Stop whining and keep shooting!" Zaeed retorted.

Tali shook her head and tapped her omni-tool. I expected her to fire off an EMP of her own. So I was a bit surprised when a drone spawned right next to her. "Go for the optics, Chikitta!" she ordered. "Go for the optics!" The drone chirped a reply and sped off to the nearest merc. That merc started cursing—at a high volume, given all the gunfire chattering around—and started slapping at... Chikkita. Mordin took advantage to send a bolt of plasma sizzling into his face.

Within a few minutes, the mercs were eliminated. The only one left was hiding around the corner with a rocket launcher. That one was easy to handle—I just cloaked, snuck up on him and pummelled him into a pulp.

"Come on!" Miranda urged. "We've got to get to Niket!"

"Sure," Jacob pointed with his arm. "Just as soon as we tackle those guys."

Two more mercs came barrelling out of an elevator. Standard Eclipse troopers. We ran them over without too much fuss—not literally, of course. "Hah! Weakling!" Grunt crowed as the last one bit the dust.

There were no more mercs popping out, so we walked towards the elevator. A squawking voice had everyone jerk their weapons up and look around.

"Hang on," Miranda said. She strode over, bent down and picked up a radio. "I'll patch us in, see if I can get an idea what we're up against." She looked back at me while her fingers danced over the radio. "Shepard... I think I owe you an explanation. Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father... grew her when I was a teenager."

'_Grew?' _

"She was meant to replace me. I couldn't let my father do to her what he did to me. So I rescued her."

"Why didn't you tell me that we were saving a kid?" I asked.

"She's not a child," Miranda corrected, "she'll be 19 this year. But... well, it didn't seem relevant at the time, I suppose. There are people who'd use her against me. I'm _very_ protective when it comes to Oriana. Still, I'm sorry I didn't trust you sooner. You deserved to know."

Leaving out bits of intel like that can get people killed, and I was in no hurry to become one of them. Having said that, I'd probably keep things on a 'need-to-know' basis if I were in Miranda's shoes. Well, not exactly her shoes since I could never wear high heels—and how the _heck _could she walk around in those things without toppling over? Never mind run on the battlefield. But I digress.

"How young was Oriana when you took her?"

"Only a couple months old."

"Juggling a way to escape your father _and _take a baby sister with you," I marveled. "That couldn't have been easy."

Miranda shuddered, which by itself spoke volumes. "If you knew my father, you would understand why I had to try. I wasn't the first one he made. I was only the first one he _kept_. I was brought up with no friends—other than the ones I made in secret—and pushed to meet impossible demands. Any action I did that did not consider every variable and possible outcome was a failure. Any academic score that was less than perfect was a failure. Anything I did that wasn't 100% perfect was a failure. I wasn't a daughter to him. I was..." She broke off, visibly upset, before concluding "I don't know what I was. Oriana has had a normal life. I made the right decision."

"All right," I nodded. "If Eclipse knows where Oriana is, they'll be moving in on her soon. We need to hurry."

"Agreed," Miranda replied. "I'm a bit worried by what the merc said, though. If they've got to Niket somehow, this is going to be harder than I'd planned. According to the specs I reviewed, we'll need to cut through the cargo processing yard to get to Oriana."

"What do the specs say about the cargo processing yard?" I asked.

"We'll be moving through conveyor systems," Miranda summarized. "There'll be a lot of movement. Finding targets won't be easy. We'll need to stay sharp. And these cargo transports carry hazardous materials, so watch what you shoot at."

"We'll do that." I quickly looked at everyone to make sure they understood. I really didn't need to get blown up by indirect friendly fire. "I hope your friend can be trusted," I added, turning back to Miranda.

"Absolutely," Miranda said. "Niket is one of my oldest friends. I guess you could say he was my only real friend. He's the only person I didn't cut ties with when I left my father."

The conspiracy buff in me started getting nervous at that last sentence. "Is there a chance your father could be using Niket to get to you?"

"I'm sure he's tried, but Niket's one of the few people who understands what my father is really like," she replied confidently. "I trusted him with my life when I ran from my father, Shepard. He won't betray me now."

"Let's go find Niket and Oriana," I said, activating the elevator controls.

* * *

><p>When the elevator doors popped open, we slowly crept out, guns at the ready. I led the squad over to the right and through a cargo container—<p>

Hello. A PDA. Bound to have a credit account worth hacking if experience was any indication. As I started tapping away, Miranda was peering ahead. "Trouble on the far side of the conveyor line!" she warned. "Time your shots!"

As soon as I'd hacked the PDA and transferred the funds to my own account, we started towards towards the area Miranda indicated, leapfrogging teams forward one at a time. Naturally it was Team One who was closest when the mercs started firing.

Kasumi tried to knock out the shields of three mercs, but only succeeded in knocking out one. That poor guy was promptly set on fire. Meanwhile, Miranda sent her own EMP, with Grunt quick to fire a concussive round into the merc whose shields had suddenly dissipated.

While Garrus led his team forward, Team One started a steady round of EMPs, fireballs and concussive rounds. We were outnumbered about two to one, but we just slowly picked off mercs one at a time. It probably helped that the conveyor belt that was automatically moving cargo along blocked our line of sight as well as the mercs. And once Team Two joined us, things quickly turned in our favour. Even the extra reinforcements that showed up didn't slow us down.

During the fight, I kept a steady eye on the HUD. It looked like there were a couple more mercs over on our left. But they weren't joining the fight. What were they waiting for?

The answer became evident shortly after the mercs on our end fell silent, in the form of two combat drones.

Gritting my teeth, I ran past them. The sooner they started zapping me, the sooner their own systems would short out. And it was better to set them off now than when we were actually under fire.

Once I got closer, I could see that there were two salarian mercs hiding behind a stack of crates. Team Three had arrived by this point, so I ordered them to move forward and cut them off before they could flank us on the left. Garrus got the idea and did the same on the right.

It was a textbook flanking move—keep the enemy pinned down, slowly advance on them, cut off their escape routes and get into a position where you can get the jump on them—or take advantage of any stupid moves they make. The mercs tried to counter with combat drones and fireballs of their own, but we were ready for them. In desperation, one of the salarians bolted for another set of crates, trying to get a clear shot. My fireball was ready for him.

"We need a medic!" the unburned salarian cried out, presumably into his comm. Too late—his buddy succumbed to the burns a second later. He tried to sic another combat drone on us, which Tali prompted countered with her own. While he was trying to figure out what to do next, Jack levitated him up into the air, allowing Garrus to snipe him in the head.

"_This is Enyala,"_ an unfamiliar voice called out over the comm, just as the salarian dropped to the ground with a thud. Guess Miranda had successfully patched into the Eclipse frequencies after all. _"Keep the bitch back! Niket is nearing the transport terminal!"_

Miranda immediately let out a blistering string of curses. "Garrus, swipe the medkit in the container over there. Jacob; possible schematic in the adjacent container. Grab them so we can get moving."

We all looked at her. "How did you know they were there?" I asked.

She gave me a look that clearly said "Who are you talking to, again?"

"Never mind."

We grabbed the loot—which was exactly where Miranda said they would be—and moved on. It wasn't long before we blithely blundered into more bad guys. LOKI light mechs, for the most part. Mordin and I automatically melted the armour off the closest pair.

"Burn and die!" Grunt roared. He charged at one of them, knocked it over and blew its head off with his assault rifle. Tali settled for a more delicate approach, choosing to hack the other mech and turn it against its compatriots.

"Everyone hold your fire," Garrus called out. "Wait until the other mechs catch up. Focus on the mech Tali hacked."

Realizing what he was thinking, I followed his lead. "Miranda, Mordin and I will take out the armour on the other mechs," I added. On my HUD, I watched as the mech suffered more and more damage, while the rest of the mechs came a little closer. Just a little bit more...

"Open fire!" Garrus yelled.

On his command, the rest of the squad unleashed a single volley at the mech, while Miranda, Mordin and I melted or blasted the armour off of its compatriots. The damaged mech stumbled, collapsed on the ground and exploded—taking out the remaining mechs in the process. In the distance, I heard someone—presumably one of the mercs curse. He must have lodged a complaint or something, because Enyala soon responded. "I don't care how many mechs you lose!" she snapped. "Just stall them, damn it!"

It was possible that the mercs were hard of hearing, because the next couple mercs we ran into didn't stall us at all. Their demise did not go unnoticed, unfortunately.

"_Divert everyone except my guard from Niket,"_ Enyala ordered. _"I'll handle him and the kid personally."_

"Damn it!" Miranda cried out. "I'm not letting her get Oriana."

"Look on the bright side," I told her. "We're making them react to our assault instead of the other way around."

"As long as we don't regret it," she fretted.

Her words proved to be prophetic. The next wave of mercs were heavily armed and they got the first shot off—a round of assault rifle fire and a rocket sent us scrambling for cover. Of course, we quickly got our wits together and disabled their shields. After that, it was a tossup in our favour.

Moving around the corner, we found ourselves travelling down a narrow corridor created by one of the walls and a tall stack of crates. A perfect fire zone to focus weapons fire if I ever saw one. The mercs must have had the same idea, judging by the dozen troopers and mechs waiting for us. We promptly knocking out the shields from random mercs, delivering well-aimed concussive rounds to knock them into their comrades or just merrily set them ablaze. With all that chaos, we quickly got the upper hand.

Unfortunately, the next wave of mercs had seen us and was less inclined to stand out in the open and let us whittle them down. Instead, they made ample use of all the cover they had at their disposal, and another damn conveyor belt which kept blocking our way with cargo.

In hindsight, I didn't really do much fighting. Oh I sniped a merc before he could send some fireballs or combat drones after us. But most of my time was spent keeping a close eye on the status of my squad and the mercs, figuring out when the former was ready to do something like launch an EMP, fire a concussive round, whip off a fireball or cast some biotic voodoo, and which merc should be the next to suffer our wrath. Should I set that one on fire... no, let Zaeed kill him with a concussive round. I'll burn the next guy and, let's see; Garrus and Jack can tag-team merc number three.

Glancing over to my right, I saw a merc trooper and one of the higher-ranking mercs run for cover. A quick order to Miranda and the trooper lost his shields, just before they ducked behind cover. I kept a close eye on them, waiting for them to emerge. When they did, they took an EMP and two fireballs to the face.

I then consulted my HUD and almost had a heart attack when I saw the number of enemies had multiplied. It was only when I took a cautious look around that I realized what had happened: the only mercs left were equipped with those fancy omni-tool upgrades that let them spawn combat drones. Apparently they were so worried about a mass assault that they generated tons of them. Now if they had sent the drones after us, we might have had a problem. Instead, the mercs surrounded themselves with the drones like little glowing bodyguards. I quickly gave the order to stay back, avoid provoking the drones and pick off the mercs one by one. There were a few growls of protest—mostly from Grunt and Jack—but the squad obeyed my orders.

Once the last merc was down, the drones obligingly flickered away. We were then free to loot thermal clips, credits and the odd pack of eezo to our heart's content.

Well, until EDI interrupted us. Killjoy.

"_Eclipse operatives have attempted to delay you by disabling the elevators,"_ it confirmed us. _"I am overriding their lockdown."_

That would help us later on. Unfortunately, it didn't do anything about the dozen mercs that were guarding said elevators. "Concentrate on the troopers," I ordered. The more cannon fodder we eliminated, the less firepower we'd be facing as the fight went on.

That plan went pretty well at first. We managed to drop a couple mercs here and there. Then I noticed an asari sneaking forward, barriers and shotgun at the ready. Somehow, I figured having her get up close and personal was a bad idea.

Miranda thought the same thing, judging by the large biotic explosion against the asari's barriers. Three concussive rounds punched through what was left and knocked her over. The asari spent a few seconds flailing around, mainly because she was trying to slap out the fires I'd started with my omni-tool. Then she tried to get up.

By that point, Grunt was charging straight towards her, roaring all the way.

Trusting that the asari would no longer be a problem, I turned my attention back to the battlefield. Just two more mercs—one was spitting out rockets; the other spitting out combat drones. I sniped the former and, in my infinite generosity, let someone else handle the latter.

Just as the last merc dropped to the ground, we heard Enyala again. From the sounds of things, she was giving the mercs a sitrep. Probably something like—

"_Niket has reached the terminal. He'll switch the family over to our transport."_

Aw, crap. I hadn't considered anything like that.

"Niket? But... that can't be right..."

Apparently, neither had Miranda.

We quickly scrounged up any thermal clips we could find—and some much-needed power cells—and got into the elevator. I was trying to figure out how quickly we could get to Enyala and Niket, given my past experiences with elevators.

Miranda was frantically rationalizing like there was no tomorrow. "Maybe the captain knows we're listening in and she's feeding misinformation about Niket making a switch," she tried. I silently tapped the elevator controls. And groaned: we were at Dock 78. According to the info Miranda provided before we arrived at Illium, the terminal that Oriana's family was heading towards could only be accessed via another elevator at Dock 94. In other words, we had to take this elevator all the way to the top, traverse yet another battlefield, then take another elevator. This could be a long trip. Heck, this elevator ride alone felt like an eternity. Especially with that annoyingly cheerful muzak.

"Or maybe it means something else," Miranda continued desperately. "Niket wouldn't do that. Damn it, why won't this thing go any faster?" She abruptly swivelled and slammed her fist into the control panel. That did more than vent her frustrations—a signal transmitted from her omni-tool, shutting off the music and dramatically accelerating the car.

I wish I had thought of that two years ago. It would have made all the elevator rides in the Citadel—and Noveria and countless other places—more bearable.

I turned to Miranda. "Now might not be the best time to ask this, but what makes you so sure that Niket wouldn't turn on you?"

"He could've turned on me when I ran away," she replied in a calm, but bewildered, tone. "I'm sure my father tried to buy him off. If he didn't do it then, why would he do it now?"

A sudden thought occurred to me. "Did Niket know that you took Oriana from your father?"

"No, he just found out about that recently. It was too personal to involve someone else."

I raised an eyebrow.

She picked up on what I was hinting at. "I never really thought about it, but maybe... no. He'd have understood why I did it. He knows what I went through."

"Well you're the one who knows him, Miranda," I reassured her. "If you don't think he'd betray you, then I'm sure there's another explanation."

"I don't know, damn it," she said in despair. "But I guess we'll find out soon enough." Her face adopted a look of grim determination. "And then I'll have a word with this Captain Enyala."

* * *

><p>Apparently Enyala and Niket didn't see eye to eye on certain matters, as they were arguing loud enough for us to hear inside the elevator car.<p>

"This isn't worth my time, Niket," a female voice—presumably Enyala—complained. "I get paid regardless of how the girl gets there."

"No," Niket said emphatically. "I was told that I could handle this my way. We're not traumatizing the family any more than we—"

The elevator doors opened at that point, interrupting whatever he was going to say. The squad barrelled out, guns at the ready. We could see several mercs scattered throughout the dock, but focused our attention on the Niket and the two asari. Presumably the one holding a shotgun instead of a datapad was Enyala.

Niket's eyes widened in surprise. "Miri."

"This should be fun," Enyala snorted, hopping off the crate she was sitting on and lifting her shotgun. The squad immediately raise their weapons in response. Niket jerked his hands up halfway between 'Don't hurt me' and 'I surrender.'

The dock official took that opportunity to run for it. She made it about three steps before Enyala sent a shotgun shell after her. The impact sent her flying into a nearby barrel. Between the gaping hole in her back and the angle of her neck, it was safe to assume she wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

"Niket," Miranda greeted her old (ex)-friend coldly. "You sold me out."

"How do you want to handle this, Miranda?" I murmured.

Apparently, shooting wasn't Plan A. That was good—easier to get answers that way. "Why, Niket?" she asked, her voice tinged with hurt and betrayal. "You were my friend. You helped me get away from my father."

"Yes!" Niket replied. "Because _you_ wanted to leave. That was _your_ choice! But if I'd known that you'd stolen a baby—"

"I didn't steal her! I _rescued_ her!" Miranda snapped back.

"From a life of wealth and happiness?" Niket asked in disbelief. "You weren't saving her! You were getting back at your father!"

Since we were playing Twenty Questions, I decided to chip in. Get some actual information instead of bandying accusations back and forth. "How did Miranda's father turn you?"

"Yes," Miranda echoed. "How?"

"They told me you'd kidnapped your baby sister all those years ago," Niket said. "They said I could help get her back peacefully. No trauma to the family. I told them you'd never do that. That they could go to hell. Then you finally told me what you'd done. I called them back that night."

Oops. That's the problem when the people who need to know aren't on the 'need-to-know' list.

Miranda's voice thickened with emotion. "Why didn't you call me, Niket?" she burst out. "We've been through a lot. You could've at least let me explain."

"I deserved to know that you'd stolen your sister, Miri." Niket's voice was calmer, but no less betrayed than Miranda. "I deserved to know you were with Cerberus. But I had to hear it from your father first."

It was then that I noticed the quality of his clothes. Hardly high-class, but pretty close. That raised a nagging suspicion. "How much did Miranda's father pay you?"

"A great deal."

A choked noise popped out of Miranda's mouth before she could stifle it. Sometimes I hate it when my hunches pay off. "Damn it, Niket! You were the only one I trusted from that life."

"He knew you felt that way," Niket nodded. "That's why he bought me."

Twisted symmetry and sticking it to his own daughter. The man was clearly a piece of work.

"So you just took his money," Miranda spat.

"Don't get holy with me, Miri," Niket hissed back. "You took his money for years."

"Whether or not you agree with Miranda, Oriana has been with her family for years now," I pointed out.

"Her father can still give her a better life," Niket disagreed.

"You don't know what my father wants for her," Miranda argued.

"I know that I've been poor," Niket replied. "I didn't much care for it."

So he thought a better socioeconomic status might be in Oriana's best interests. There were a few holes in that argument, I thought. But I guess it was one way to justify all the betrayal he was feeling, including the one that came from accepting Daddy's paycheque.

"That's what you're going with?" I snorted. "Yeah, Miranda grew up in the lap of luxury. But then she left all that behind and ran. _With Oriana. _Shouldn't that tell you something? Shouldn't that suggest that maybe this guy isn't all he's cracked up to be? That maybe life with him was hardly a happy little picnic? Besides, Oriana was a baby when Miranda took her. She won't remember her biological father. Which means you're delivering her to a total stranger."

"Exactly," Miranda chimed in. "My father wants to take a girl away from the _only_ family she's ever known. By force. Like Shepard just said: doesn't that tell you what he _really_ is?"

"If not," I added, "either you're really determined to stick your head in the sand and ignore what's in front of you, or you just don't care because there's a lot of zeroes in the paycheque you received."

Niket had nothing to say this time. I decided to let him stew on that while I switched targets. "By the way, I knew Eclipse was willing to get their hands dirty," I said, turning to Enyala, "but kidnapping a kid? Isn't that a little low, even for you guys?"

"I'm not stealing her," she corrected. "I'm rescuing her. Come on, Niket. Let's finish this bitch off and get out of here."

"Take your best shot," Miranda bit out behind gritted teeth.

"I was just waiting for you to finish getting dressed," Enyala retorted. "Or does Cerberus really let you whore around in that outfit?"

"I like her," Jack piped up. "We're still recruiting, right?"

I chose to ignore that comment. Besides, something else had occurred to me. "Miranda, if Niket knows about Oriana, then your father does too. Relocating her won't work."

"Miranda's father has no information about Oriana," Niket admitted. "I knew you had spy programs in your father's system, Miri, so I kept it private. I only told him I had a number of leads to follow up. I'm the only one who knows the whole thing."

"Which means that you're the only loose end," Miranda concluded sadly. "This isn't how I wanted it to end, Niket. I'm going to miss you..."

I grabbed her arm and yanked it up before she could pull the trigger. "Miranda, wait," I cautioned. "You don't want to do this."

"This has to end here, Shepard," Miranda replied. "My father will keep trying to find Oriana."

I looked at Niket, who looked more and more like he was regretting his earlier actions. "Maybe Niket can help," I speculated. "With your father." I turned to Niket. "Just tell him Miranda got here first. Or better yet, say your leads didn't pan out."

"I can do that," he agreed. "I'll say that you did too good a job of hiding her. That I couldn't find out where she is and I have to keep looking."

Miranda nodded stiffly, then stabbed a finger towards him. "As long as your 'looking' takes you far, far away from me. I never want to see you again, Nik—"

A shot rang out.

Niket slumped to the ground. A wisp of smoke trickled from Enyala's shotgun. "Done," Enyala said calmly. "Now if you don't mind, I have a shipment to deliver."

The shock on Miranda's face vanished in an instant, replaced by fury and rage. She made some kind of gesture that enveloped Enyala in a biotic field and lifted her up in the air. "You'll die for that, bitch!" she snarled. A bolt of biotics lanced out from her hand, sending her arcing through the air, barrelling through a stack of crates and slamming into the floor. She quickly got up, though, and started moving towards us. Along with the rest of the mercs.

I quickly assessed the battlefield. There were three paths between us and the elevator. Enyala was heading down the left; everyone else was slowly moving towards the right. Centre path was clear.

"Team Three; keep Enyala busy. Team One, with me. Team Two; help whichever team's in trouble." I ordered."

The way I figured it, it would be easier to eliminate Enyala's flunkies and then tackle her than try to wear her down while said flunkies were shooting up our backsides—so the left path was out. Still, I didn't want Enyala sneaking up and making mincemeat out of us while our backs were turned. That's what Team Three was for.

Centre path meant running the gauntlet. I'll pass, thanks.

Right path had the most mercs, but it also had lots of cover and lots of clutter. If they tried charging towards us, they'd just get funnelled into a narrow kill zone and trip over each other. I was fine with them making that mistake, but not us—hence why only Team One was going in.

And if we got in over our heads or Enyala proved to be even more of a headache than anticipated? That's why Team Two had operational discretion to act as a mobile reserve and reinforce whichever team needed help.

First things first—another asari. Barriers, shotgun—probable headache. Miranda landed an expert hit with her biotics that drained almost two thirds of her barriers. A quick sniper shot did the rest. Kasumi launched an EMP at one of the troopers, leaving him wide open for Grunt to fire several shots. He tried to finish him off with a concussive round, but the merc ducked just in time.

Speaking of which, it was time for us to duck, as the mercs sent a volley of gunfire—and plasma fire—back at us. While we took cover, I checked to see how the others were doing. It looked like Enyala had taken a couple licks from Teams Three, though her barriers were still holding. Team Two had assumed a holding position behind some crates, where the other mercs couldn't see them, and was laying down cover fire whenever it looked like Enyala might start getting aggressive. So far, so good.

Miranda shifted her position, her body posture indicating she wanted to head back. Probably so she could give Enyala a good pounding. I grabbed her arm again and shook her head. She glared. I glared back, pointed to her and Kasumi, and pointed forward. She sighed and nodded. I got Kasumi's attention, repeated my series of gestures and counted down from three.

On my signal, Miranda and Kasumi simultaneously fired off EMPs. Miranda managed to knock out another trooper's shields, so I set him on fire. Kasumi was aiming for the guy who looked like he had the most seniority, but he managed to generate a combat drone just in time to intercept the pulse. Grunt fired a couple shots to drive him back, and then swivelled towards the merc who had ducked his concussive round. That merc didn't get lucky again.

I took another look back to see how things were faring behind us. Enyala's barriers were almost gone. A pair of mercs had joined her, but they weren't exactly turning the tide of battle. I glimpsed Tali sending her own combat drone forwards to harass the merc leader while Jack used her biotics to send the other mercs flying.

As for Team One, we'd reduced the opposition to a mere handful of mercs. I gauged where they were and what weapons or tools they had at their disposal, and then gave my orders. Kasumi lobbed a flashbang grenade to disorient them. While they were busy blinking stars out of their eyes, Grunt and I ganged up on one of them while Kasumi tackled another. Miranda was holding her EMP for merc number three, sending it as soon as he lobbed a fireball at her. Her pulse obliterated his shields, opening the way for me to send a fireball back at him. While he was flailing away, I lifted my sniper rifle and put him out of his misery—just as the rest of the team dropped the last merc.

At that point, Enyala knew she was screwed. To be fair, she'd put up a tough fight. She'd singlehandedly tied up two thirds of my squad with her constant assaults, made all the more dangerous by her prolific use of offensive biotics and the frequency with which she replenished her barriers. Unfortunately—for her—the entire squad was now free to concentrate on her, all her buddies were dead, her barriers had been drained yet again and her armour was showing some serious damage. It was time for her to bail.

Her efforts to run, however, brought her right into the sights of my sniper rifle. One pull of the trigger cracked her armour wide open. Judging by the way she winced and doubled over, I guessed the bullet had actually penetrated her hardsuit and went through her body, but didn't have enough leftover velocity to punch its way out of the hardsuit—which meant it was probably bouncing around her innards at this very moment. Shame.

Miranda probably thought the same way, given the ferocity with which she attacked Enyala with her biotics. I guess the best way to describe it is as follows: Enyala went up in the air, slammed back down and didn't get up again.

"There could be more Eclipse mercs near the shuttle," Miranda fretted. "I want to make sure Oriana and her family get on safely."

"Right," I agreed. "Team Three; search up the left side for anything useful. Team Two gets the centre path; Team One takes the right. We'll meet up at the elevator in five minutes."

It actually took six. Miranda wasn't complaining, however. Now that the excitement had died down, the betrayal that she had suppressed came surging back with a vengeance. I actually had to call her over when the elevator doors opened.

"I can't believe Niket sold me out," she said as she joined us. "I didn't even see it coming."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," I told her. "Even with all your upgrades, you're only human."

Her voice trembled with emotion as she replied "But I let it get personal... and I screwed up. Why didn't you let me kill him?" she demanded, turning towards me. "I could have handled that. But watching him get gunned down by that asari bitch..."

"It's hard for a guy to make amends when he's dead," I replied. "Besides, you still cared for him. Even if he did betray you."

"You're right," she said. "And my father knew it. He used that against me. Like he always did. He'd give me anything I ever wanted, but there was always a hook, an angle for his long term plan. I threw away everything he ever gave me when I ran. Everything from my old life. Except Niket. Weakness on my part, perhaps?"

"You can't toss aside everything you care about just to be safe," I pointed out.

"You can try, though. What is it?"

The sudden shift in conversation kinda threw me for a moment. "Huh?"

"You look like you want to ask something."

Well, that was true. But was now really the best time?

Miranda must have realized what I was thinking. "It's okay, Shepard," she reassured me. "My father hurt me, but he didn't break me. As much as he tried to turn me into exactly what he wanted, I'm my own person. Niket hasn't changed that. Ask your question."

"All right," I sighed. "Are there any other old friends your father might use against you?"

She considered that for a second. "No," she shook her head. "I cut ties with everyone else. Anyone I'm close to now works for Cerberus... or you."

Wow. Now _that _was a big admission. I almost missed her add "My father's powerful, but he won't cross the Illusive Man."

"If you say so," I said. I reached over and hit the elevator controls. As the doors closed, I casually said "You're wrong, by the way."

"Oh?"

"You haven't abandoned everything from your old life. You still have Oriana."

"I said I abandoned everything from my old life that my father ever gave me," she reminded me. "He didn't give her to me. I rescued her. But yes, you're right. I still have something. Thank you."

* * *

><p>We split up into teams again once we reached the terminal and did a quick sweep. For once, there were no more mercs.<p>

"It looks like we're clear," Miranda said as the last team reported in. She looked throughout the terminal one more time...

...and froze.

"There she is."

Following her gaze, I saw a group of three people talking. One of them was a young woman who looked vaguely familiar. "Oriana?" I guessed.

Miranda nodded absently. "She's safe. With her family." Oddly enough—given all the trouble she'd gone to—Miranda looked kinda sad. "Come on," she said abruptly. "We should go."

"Now?" I asked. "Don't you even want to say hello or something?"

She looked at me blankly. "It's not about what I want. It's about what's right for her. The less she knows about me, the better. She's got a family. A life. I'll just complicate that for her."

I think that's when I got it. Miranda had devoted her life to Cerberus and her sister. Two goals with one common thread: a better world. A better galaxy. She had dedicated herself to doing what must be done so that others could be happy and normal, even if it meant creating a paradise that had no place for her. If it meant she would spend her days alone, so be it. She didn't deserve anything else. **(4)**

Boy was that screwed up.

"Look," I sighed, "she doesn't need a full debriefing, but would it really be so bad for her to know she has a sister out there in the galaxy who loves her?"

Her mouth dropped ever so slightly. She glanced at Oriana and quickly lowered her head. Then, ever so slowly, she lifted her head back up. A look of longing filled her eyes as she whispered "I guess not." Her mouth twitched into a smile, as if this was a dream come true and she couldn't believe it was happening.

Which was probably why she just stood there. After a minute, I realized that she'd need a little more prodding. "Go on," I urged. "We'll wait here."

Miranda walked off slowly, gradually picking up her pace as she approached. I watched Oriana—and her adopted parents—as they saw this woman approach them. Their looks of confusion rapidly turned to surprise, which morphed almost immediately into delight.

They wound up chatting for over two hours. **(5)** Catching up on the last decade or so, I guess. Several members of the squad got really bored, so I let them wander off and explore—as long as they didn't burn down anything, kill anybody, get arrested or sign a contract. The rest of us stayed, talked amongst ourselves and waited. To be honest, I had trouble picturing Miranda and Oriana as twins, despite the fact that their genomes were virtually identical. It wasn't the age difference. Not really. It was just... the way they looked. They way they moved. Oriana seemed to have an air of innocence, exuberance and hope, while Miranda had a lot more awareness—in her surroundings, her sensuality, that sort of thing—experience and confidence. Seeing the two of them together, you would never have guessed that they were related.

Eventually, Miranda said her goodbyes and rejoined us. We got back into the elevator. Miranda and Oriana kept staring at each other right until the doors closed. Oriana had a smile on her face.

Miranda had tears of joy in her eyes.

* * *

><p>I gave the squad the rest of the day off. We all needed a break. At least, I did. Though I still made an effort to make my usual rounds.<p>

"Thanks again, Shepard," Miranda said solemnly when it was her turn to be interrupted by yours truly. "Taking the time to help me with my sister... "

She broke off for a moment before continuing. "I couldn't have reached Oriana in time without your help."

"I'm glad Niket tried to redeem himself," she added, getting up. "For what good it did." She walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, staring out the window into space. "Thank you for stopping me, Shepard."

"What was he like? Back then, I mean."

"I didn't have many friends. Niket was one of them." She smiled as old memories resurfaced. "He never wanted anything from me. He was... safe. Comfortable. A reminder of a more innocent time, I suppose."

"Are you happy about your sister's relocation?" I asked.

Miranda smiled again. I tried not to keel over. "She has what I wanted her to have—a normal life and the freedom to choose her own path. And she knows she has an older sister. A friend."

I moved so I was in her peripheral vision. "What did you guys talk about?"

"I introduced myself. Her family was shocked. She adjusted quickly, of course. She's as smart as I am. She plays the violin. Loves the adagio movement of Nielsen's Fifth, just like I do. She wants to work in colony development. Told a joke about it. She's really funny. Something we don't share."

She looked at me gratefully. "Thank you for convincing me to talk to her. It was... more than I could have imagined."

"Just personal experience," I shrugged. "I know how reassuring it can be to have a sibling to rely on or care about."

"A sibling?" Miranda repeated with a frown. "I studied your records very carefully. You're an only child."

"Well, not sibling in the biological sense," I hedged. "Since you studied my records, you know I bounced from ship to station to ship along with my folks. Kinda hard to make friends when you have to leave them every year or so. And keeping any friends is really hard when you consider the challenges of interstellar communication—even with military-level authorization, getting anything close to real-time conversations is a luxury. Extranet e-mails were the best I could do."

"But there was one exception," Miranda guessed.

"Ellie and I first met when our families were both stationed on the Einstein," I confirmed. "It was a total coincidence that our families were also reassigned to Arcturus Station. Or back to, I should say—it must have been Mom's third or fourth duty assignment there. Maybe fifth. Anyway, Ellie and I wound up hanging out together."

"Makes sense," Miranda said. "She was the one familiar face outside of your parents."

"Yeah," I nodded. "That was really important, especially after my dad... disappeared. Got to the point where Mom refused to go anywhere unless Ellie and her parents were given the same assignment. By that point, she had enough seniority and—more importantly—friends that strings could be pulled. In the end, Ellie wound up being the older sister I never had."

I don't know why I was telling Miranda this. I'd never really brought it up with anyone. Heck, I never even brought it up with Ashley, and she _knew _how important family was as the only constant in her childhood. **(6) **

"What happened to Ellie?"

"I'm not exactly sure," I admitted. "I've kinda lost touch with a lot of people over the last two years. Last I heard, she had finished med school and was in the middle of her residency." I made a mental note to get in touch with her. After talking to Mom, of course.

"Are you gonna talk to her again?"

"I honestly don't know," she confessed. "For once, I haven't planned that far ahead. I'll deal with it after our mission. I have to stay focused. Besides, she needs time to adjust to her new home."

"It's funny," I admitted. "I think of you as all business. Always about the mission. It's good to see that there's a person under there that did something for herself."

Her eyes shifted from the stars towards me. Getting up, she extended a hand. For a moment, I thought she was trying to shake hands. Then I realized her arm was too high. It looked like she was reaching for my...

...shoulder?

Miranda lowered her hand, almost reluctantly. "The mission's too important to let personal feelings interfere."

She was talking about Oriana's relocation.

I think.

"Thank you again, Commander. My sister is safe again, thanks in large part to you. I won't forget that."

"You're welcome, Miranda."

I got up to go. Rounds to make and all that. I had almost reached the door when Miranda called out: "So when can I expect to hear it?"

"Hear what?" I asked, turning back.

"Whatever obscure song you've selected to broadcast over the comm system." She raised an eyebrow at me. "What? You didn't think I'd noticed your pattern?"

Actually, I was wondering why she was the first one to call me out on it. I did have something in the works, and it seemed pointless to deny it. So I activated my omni-tool, pulled up the program I'd set up and overrode the time delay. "Satisfied, Miranda?" I asked, echoing Jacob's words when we'd left to meet the Illusive Man all those months ago.

"I suppose," she nodded.

The song began to play as I walked out the door, wondering who'd be the next one to admit they'd figured out my little game:

"_Notes from the underground.  
>We're the mice who must write our lives down.<br>In the night, I hear you calling out to say  
>'It's all right, love, you're in good hands.'<em>

_"Tears on a borrowed bed,_  
><em>Between walls that are painted somebody else's red.<em>  
><em>If you hear me cry, I'm calling out to say<em>  
><em>'It's all right, love, you're in good hands.'<em>

_"Still out on the roof,_  
><em>Howling at the moon.<em>  
><em>Exiles.<em>  
><em>Another exile in the kingdom.<em>  
><em>Still out on the roof,<em>  
><em>All I need is you.<em>  
><em>Exiles.<em>  
><em>Oh, we are exiles.<em>  
><em>We two." <em>**(7) **

* * *

><p>When I got back to my quarters, there was a new e-mail waiting for me in my inbox.<p>

_From: Oriana (Lawson)_

_I hope this is the right Commander Shepard. I'm Oriana. My sister only told me a little, but I don't think it occurred to her that I'm as smart as she is. I poked around a little and found an information broker who got me this address._

_I got to thank her, but I never got to thank you for helping me. My parents don't really understand it, but I know how much Miranda did, how many little things over the years were her looking out for me. I'm not going to tell them. I still want to go to school and get some degrees. But I wanted you to know that I know you saved me._

_I had a guardian angel all these years. I don't know if my sister has anybody. She said she's working for you, and it was pretty clear that you were doing something dangerous. Make sure she comes back alive, okay?_

_—Oriana_

_PS: Don't tell her I sent you this. It would just make her angry._

_PPS: Miranda, quit looking at Shepard's messages. Oh, don't act like you don't. It's what I'd do._

Heh. That was cute, that little dig at Miranda. As if she could...

...

Nah. She couldn't.

...

I decided to do a security sweep of my e-mail filters. Just to be safe, I told myself an hour later, as the results came up on my screen. I mean, Miranda must have been right about Oriana being funny...

...

Goddamn it.

* * *

><p><em>(1): By this point, Shepard had enough individuals in his squad and a grasp on the skills and interactions of each member to determine how best to divide them up.<em>

_(2): An energy-based armour suit that boosted the user's shields. It typically sends out a concussive energy pulse when destroyed that inflicts damage on nearby enemies while staggering or knocking them over._

_(3): While tech armour was excellent in absorbing damage, it—like all forms of protection—was designed to allow free range of movement. Therefore, someone with enough knowledge and strength would be capable of performing a feat like the one Shepard pulled off. _

_(4): One wonders if Shepard is talking about Ms. Lawson or himself. Or both. _

_(5): Shepard conveniently neglects to mention that he ordered EDI to disable the transport's systems, which delayed their scheduled departure._

_(6): Shepard was indeed reticent to talk about his friend and surrogate sister. Subconsciously or otherwise, I believe it was his way of shielding her from unwanted attention, either at the hands of hostile interests or, after the events of the Skyllian Blitz and his newfound reputation as a hero, the media. The fact that he was willing to tell Ms. Lawson, after all his previous concerns and suspicions, indicates how far their relationship and trust in each other had developed._

_(7): 'Notes from the Underground' by Sarah Slean, released in 2008. By this point, Shepard had figured out how lonely Ms. Lawson must have felt at times, and wanted to give her something that would acknowledge that._


	19. It's All About Karma

**Chapter 15: It's All about Karma**

I suppose there are a couple reasons why I decided to recruit Thane Krios first. Maybe it was because his skills as an assassin could bring an extra layer of sneakiness to the squad, which is never a bad thing in my unasked-for opinion. Maybe it was because he was as skilled with the sniper rifle as he was with his biotics, which potentially made him a kindred spirit in my book. Or maybe because he was a drell, a species I had never met before, and I wanted to indulge my curiosity.

Whatever the reason, we left the Normandy to try and track him down. We had decided to sleep onboard the Normandy for the simple reason that it would be infinitely cheaper—and safer—than booking a room at one of the myriad hotels on Illium. Besides, I had to do some computer stuff: Miranda had indeed managed to hack her way into my e-mail accounts. Plus she—or EDI or someone else with too much time on their hands—had restored the surveillance feed from the lone bug in my quarters. Both were readily corrected by redirecting things to the same guy. And the best part: Miranda would be able to confirm, once and for all, whether or not Joker really did spend an inordinate amount of time surfing the extranet for porn.

On the way out, I noticed that Miranda had donned a new set of clothes. She wasn't the only one who had experimented with something new—Zaeed, Kasumi and Jacob had all sported new duds at some point while we were flying from planet to planet. But they had ultimately chosen to keep their original hardsuits or outfits for their own reasons.

Zaeed had found a hardsuit similar to his old one, with red plates instead of yellow, but ultimately felt that red wasn't his colour. His old hardsuit had seen him through some rough spots, he said, and it just seemed a bit disloyal to try something different now. It was the sort of superstitious rot that made sense to him. Besides, he said, if he took a bullet while hunting mercs or something, he wanted to know where he was bleeding out.

Kasumi had also experimented with red. She even had a head-to-toe outfit, complete with hood, which she had tried out on the Normandy. Lately, though, she'd been favouring her original black clothes more and more. Something about how going around in red elicited nothing but the automatic "Looks nice" from various crewmembers. Plus, when she asked Jacob for his opinion, he hadn't noticed that she was wearing something new. And then he wondered why Kasumi was mad at him. Oh, Jacob...

Speaking of Jacob, he had also tried a new colour pattern. After five minutes or so, he switched back. His old hardsuit worked just fine, thank you very much. No sense changing for the simple sake of aesthetics.

So why did Miranda change her clothes? I suspect Enyala's comment about her 'whoring around in that outfit' had struck home, even if she never admitted it. She must have known what kind of effect her black and white outfit had on others, what with the way it proudly sported the Cerberus logo, hugged every curve of her body as if she had been poured into it, and prominently displayed her ample breasts, long legs and great ass.

But apparently after ensuring her sister's safety, and actually meeting her for the first time in years, she had decided it was time for a change. So now she wore a black cat suit with orange accents. One that proudly sported the Cerberus logo, hugged every curve of her body as if she had been poured into it, and prominently displayed her ample breasts, long legs and great ass.

Maybe she thought black was more slimming. Or intimidating. How would I know? I joined the Alliance so I wouldn't have to make strange choices like that.

But enough about my squad and their clothes.

According to Liara, Thane was here to kill a corporate executive named Nassana Dantius—the same Nassana Dantius who duped me into killing her criminal sister to protect her political career. **(1)** Since then, she'd gone private sector. Logically, it made sense to find Thane by finding Nassana. However, it occurred to me that it would be wise to talk to the last person who saw him—an asari named Seryna.

Yeah, sometimes I'm smart like that. Don't look so surprised.

Seryna worked at an office on one of the cargo transfer levels. Surprisingly, it didn't take too long to find her, even though I didn't have a description. There were only two asari there when we showed up, so I had a 50-50 shot.

I randomly picked one of them. "Seryna?"

"Who wants to know?"

Damn, I'm good.

"Name's Shepard," I introduced myself. "Liara T'Soni said you might have information on Thane Krios."

Seryna got up from her desk. "Tana," she said to her colleague, "cover for me. Over here," she told me. She walked over to an office window with a splendid view—I was beginning to think there wasn't any other kind—of Illium's cityscape. We followed.

"Yeah, I know who Thane Krios is," she admitted. "I might have passed him some information, but I didn't hire him. What do you want to know?"

"Maybe you could help me find him," I suggested.

She chuckled. "I can tell you, but you won't stop him. When he contacted me, I checked up on him. The man never gives up on a job."

"Why did he contact you in the first place?" I asked.

"I ran security for Nassana Dantius," she replied. "Then I found out she was having people killed to cover up her dirty secrets. Business rivals, government officials, employees. Anyone who had outlived their usefulness or posed a threat."

She did seem to be awfully fond of that method.

"She fired me when I confronted her. Her loss. I might have been good enough to stop Thane from taking her down."

"Why did she let you go if she killed everyone else?" I frowned.

Seryna shook her head in self-recrimination. "She had her tech guys wipe out all the evidence I had and I was too stupid to make any backups. Without that, I was just a low-ranking employee with no connections. Guess I didn't seem worth it."

A lesson in underestimation if ever I heard one. "If you worked there, you must have an idea what his opposition will be," I said.

"Eclipse mercs. High-tech killers. Undisciplined, but very well-equipped. They don't much care who they kill, as long as they're paid for it."

I was starting to think that Eclipse might have a monopoly on merc contracts on Illium.

"Thane has quite a reception waiting for him," Seryna continued. "I told him all I knew. He didn't seem worried."

"You know, I met a Nassana Dantius on the Citadel a few years ago," I said, pretending I didn't know they were one and the same.

"That's her," Seryna nodded. "Rumour has it that she put out a hit on her own sister. But that was then. She moved back to Illium recently. Now she has more power here in Nos Astra than she ever did on the Citadel—which she uses to keep her friends in check and her enemies dead."

"So where do I find Thane?" I asked.

"The Dantius Towers. Penthouse level of Tower One." She turned and pointed at a skyscraper, tall even by Ilium's standards. There was a second tower next to it, still under construction.

"Tower Two," Seryna identified when I mentioned it. "If Thane is smart, he'll go in from there."

Made sense, I thought. It was much harder to guard a building with doors, windows _and _holes in the walls.

"Somehow, it doesn't sound like Nassana's just going to let me in," I guessed.

"She's as smart as she is paranoid," Seryna confirmed. "No one's getting in or out of there without a fight. I can get you in, but you'll only get one shot. You'd better be ready."

"What else do you know about Thane?" I asked.

"Not much," she shrugged. "He did say that he's not doing the hit for money. Nobody hired him. I wanted to know who I was helping and he said he's doing this job on his own. That he had to 'restore the balance of his life.'"

Jacob snorted somewhere behind me.

"I don't know. Maybe he's crazy," Seryna said, acknowledging Jacob's reaction. "If he takes down Nassana, I don't care why he does it."

"And now you're offering your help to us?" I asked sceptically. "No strings attached? Just because Nassana fired you?"

"You're going to look for Thane," Seryna pointed out. "Nassana's mercenaries will try to stop you. At the least, you'll distract her guards. Take a little fire, give Thane a clear shot. I didn't hire him to kill Nassana, but after she fired me and forced me to take this low-paying crapshoot-of-a-job, I won't shed any tears when she gets what's coming to her."

Ah, revenge. Gotta love it.

"Enough chit-chat," I decided. "Let's go, then."

"Good," she replied. "I was getting tired of this crap."

One asari's crap was another man's curiosity, I guess.

"We'll go tonight, as soon as the shift workers clear out of Tower Two."

* * *

><p>As soon as the sun set, we met Seryna at a nearby aircar terminal. She'd had the foresight to rent out a couple aircars for us. We split the squad up into three teams: Miranda, Grunt and I in Team One; Garrus, Jack and Tali in Team Two; and Jacob, Kasumi, Zaeed and Mordin in Team Three. Each team got into an aircar. Since Seryna knew where she was going, she drove the lead aircar. I had Team One ride shotgun with her. We lifted off the pad and joined the stream of aircars flying amidst the towers and skyscrapers. Like neon-coloured fish swimming through the branches of a coral reef at sunset.<p>

"The towers are heavily guarded," Seryna warned after a couple minutes, "and you'll find more resistance closer to the penthouse.

"What's your interest in Thane, anyway?" she asked. "You planning to stop him? Maybe kill Nassana yourself?"

"I'm just here to make sure he survives," I replied after a moment.

"Hmm," was all she said in return. We flew for another ten minutes or so before she leaned forward. "There they are," she pointed out. "The Dantius Towers. You'll have to go up the second tower and cross the bridge to get to the penthouse. Her mercs will fight you every step of the way, but it's your best chance."

"Why don't we just take the aircar directly to the penthouse?" I wanted to know.

"She's got mercs with rockets just waiting for you to try. You'd get maybe halfway up before they shot you down."

Bridge it was.

"Thane won't go in that way. Not if he knows any better. Best to go in low."

"Got it," I nodded.

"We're almost there," Seryna said. "Hold on."

We broke off from the flow of traffic and descended down a side street before emerging onto a main thoroughfare. A minute later, we touched down outside a large building proudly identifying itself as 'Dantius Towers.' Miranda, Grunt and I got out. We waited for the rest of the squad to join us.

"Don't linger too long," Seryna warned. "The mercs'll be here to greet you soon enough."

"We'll be off as soon as the others catch up," I reassured her.

"Good luck, Shepard," she offered before closing the hatch and flying off.

While we waited for Teams Two and Three, we glimpsed some movement through the glass doors. A pair of salarians was running along the lobby, chased by a bunch of LOKI and FENRIS mechs. As we watched, they got shot in the back. Both collapsed.

Then the mechs noticed us.

Grunt immediately fired a couple rounds into the FENRIS mechs, shattering the glass doors in the process. Miranda and I ganged up on one of the metal dogs while Grunt took the other one out the old fashioned way. By that point, the other teams were barrelling out of the aircars and heading our way. Needless to say, the remaining mechs didn't last long.

Naturally we scrounged for anything useful after the bullets stopped flying around. It was in the midst of all that searching that we came across one of the salarians we'd seen earlier. He was still alive, slumped over on the ground near a door. "Help..." he wheezed.

"Still ticking," Zaeed observed.

"I can't feel my legs..." the salarian gasped. "My chest is killing me."

"Who sent those mechs after you?" I asked, kneeling down. "And why?"

"Nassana... sent them after us... I don't know why. We're just... night workers! She sent the mechs to round us up, but we didn't hear... they just started shooting."

"Just like that?"

"Yes," the salarian replied in a hoarse voice. "We were too slow. It was horrible. Everyone... screaming... The mercs said there was no time. Nassana wanted us out of the way... immediately. Then... the dogs..."

He doubled over in a coughing fit, his body trembling. "I can't breathe... please... help me... My chest is—"

I hastily gave him a dose of medi-gel. Dead guys don't talk, after all. **(2)**

"Really?" Grunt scratched his head. "This guy? Why?"

"Take your time," I told the salarian, ignoring Grunt for the moment. With some effort, the salarian got to his feet.

"I think I'm... better..." he said.

I'd say so. His voice sounded much clearer.

"Find the other workers," he urged. "Help them."

"I need to get to the penthouse," I told him. "Any suggestions?"

"Take the service elevators to the upper floors," he advised, "then go across the bridge between the towers. The bridge isn't finished yet, but if you're careful... Just watch out for the mercs. They're everywhere."

"Speaking of which, any idea how many mercs Nassana's got?"

"A lot," he replied. "Dozens of them were wandering around here all day. You'll find more the further up you go."

Great.

"Why would Nassana order them to kill her own workers?" I wondered.

"To her, we're expendable," the salarian said sadly. "But... I didn't realize she was _that_ ruthless. My friends... co-workers... _slaughtered_. They were jumping off ledges to escape the dogs," he shuddered.

While we were talking, Garrus was playing around with the controls to the door. With a hiss, one of them opened. That was my cue. "I'll do what I can," I told the salarian.

"Thank you," he said, limping for the door.

As soon as he disappeared out of sight, we headed through the door and through a hallway into an adjoining room. I was debating whether to reorganize the squad into two teams again, when I was interrupted by the arrival of a few Eclipse mercs and a bunch of LOKI and FENRIS mechs.

"Team Three—cover fire!" I yelled. "Everyone else with me!"

We charged into the room—arranged in a U-shaped configuration—while Team Three kept the mercs and mechs busy, finding some cover behind some construction materials. Then it was Team One's turn to lay down covering fire, allowing Team Three to join us and Team Two to advance to a stack of girders a little bit closer to the enemy. I poked my head out long enough to designate targets for each team.

Then it was time to get to work. Mordin and I staggered plasma bursts to damage the mechs; Miranda, Garrus and Kasumi fired off EMPs at mechs and merc shields alike; Grunt and Zaeed delivered the final blow with concussive rounds. Jacob and Jack kept things from getting too hectic for us by levitating bad guys out of the way, temporarily removing them from combat. The whole idea was to constantly lay on the pressure and keep them huddled up so we could move into position and take them out one by one. That worked for the first few minutes.

Unfortunately, the next wave of bad guys was led by a biotic who had a few neurons to rub together. He cleverly positioned himself in a location where we couldn't get a good lock on him, not without exposing ourselves to danger, and started sending in mechs after us. If we tried to move, we'd get shot. If we stayed put, we'd get shot later.

Thankfully, they hadn't reckoned on me, my cloak and my sniper rifle. Now if I could only get that pair of mechs out of the way...

"Grunt? Miranda?"

"On your ass!" Grunt snapped—not at me, but at one of the mechs, sending it flying with a concussive round. Not enough to destroy it, but certainly enough to separate it from its synthetic bud, which promptly blew up after one of Miranda's EMPs.

That gave me enough time to sneak into firing position, cloak, and put a bullet through the biotic's head.

"Enemies on our right!" Garrus warned.

Eek. A pair of mercs was sneaking up on us, along with the mech that Grunt had damaged earlier. And guess who was closest to them and utterly exposed?

Yep, you guessed it.

Without hesitation, I promptly made an undignified tactical withdrawal, taking refuge behind a pillar. Not the best cover, but enough to get me out of their line of fire. "Back so soon?" Miranda asked.

"And you brought friends," Kasumi added.

I scowled at them. "Please shut up and get ready." After giving them orders, I waited until they got close enough and then leaned out. Miranda and Kasumi dropped EMPs on the three of them. While it damaged their shields, the main goal was to overload the mech into exploding right next to his merc masters. They cried out in shock, just before my plasma fire washed over them.

Now that my ass was safe for now, I looked around the corridor. There were two adjacent corridors; one with cover. We were too far away for my sensors to pick up any bad guys, but my eyeballs were working just fine. I lifted my sniper rifle, cloaked and planted a neat headshot into a merc. Judging by the flare of energy I saw just before the guy's head popped like a melon, he was another biotic. I mentally patted myself on the back for eliminating one of the major threats.

"Team One down the left corridor," I ordered. "Teams Two and Three take the right."

Yeah, I was ordering my team to go down one of the corridors alone. But at least we had cover. Hopefully Teams Two and Three could blast through any opposition and back us up.

Sure enough, that's how things played out. While we kept the Eclipse mercs busy, their mechs were getting slaughtered in the adjacent corridor by the rest of the squad, judging by all the explosions and cheers we were hearing.

Next thing I knew, the mercs were running out of cover back into the right hand corridor. The next minute was filled with gunfire. And then they were silent.

"Why did they do that?" Miranda frowned.

"Beats me," I shrugged, consulting my HUD, "but we're clear now. Looks like the rest of the squad took everyone out."

"Lucky," Grunt grumbled.

We soon found out why the mercs ran into the line of fire—the door leading to the next level was in the right hand corridor. The mercs knew that if they get cut off it they stayed put, so a suicidal dash was their only hope. Opening the door, we saw a narrow ramp leading up, with nothing but empty space between us and the ground below.

Come to think of it, there were clear signs that this tower hadn't been completed yet. Construction supplies everywhere. Hardcopy prints lying left and right. Unfinished rooms. Walls with lots of gaping holes. That sort of thing.

Somehow, we managed to make our way up the ramp, one by one, and entered the second level. We were about to move when we heard voices.

"Hey—I think he went in here."

"Well, go get him!"

"You go!"

"Get your ass in there—Nassana's not paying you to stand around."

"Fine... but I..."

There was a pair of gunshots. Then silence. I paused to look at my squad, noting how the light was steadily getting dimmer. The back of my neck abruptly tingled...

...I instinctively dove to the side, barely dodging a merc who dropped through the vent above us to flop on the ground. If I hadn't gotten out of the way, he'd have landed right on top of me. Plus, my little manoeuvre sent me landing next to a pair of med-kits and some thermal clips, mine for the taking.

Have I mentioned how much I love freebies?

"Threats detected. Subdue and suppress."

Aw, crap.

We hastily found cover, just before a pack of mercs and mechs showed up. As we engaged the latest bad guys, I noted that our fire discipline was a bit sloppy this time. The emphasis seemed to be more on disabling any protection the bad guys had rather than concentrating on taking them out one at a time. It didn't seem too bad, I reflected. True, it meant we still had the same number of bad guys taking pot shots at us, but we could whittle them down eventually. All we needed was enough time.

Time we suddenly didn't have, as another biotic showed up, sending a blue burst of energy whipping past our heads.

"Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; keep the mechs off our tails," I called out. If we didn't do something about the mechs, they would blithely walk through the crossfire until they were within point-blank range. Then it would be a choice between staying put and getting shot or running away and getting shot. "Everyone else, take out the biotic!"

Two concussive rounds and a biotic attack shattered the merc's barriers. Mordin and I set him on fire simultaneously. By a stroke of luck, there was enough plasma splashing around to hit another merc. In his effort to slap out the fire, he stood up. His head exploded a nanosecond later.

"Excuse me," a LOKI mech politely said, stepping around the suddenly headless merc as he dropped to the ground.

Kasumi leaned out and overloaded its systems with her EMP. "Excuse me," she echoed, as it collapsed to the floor and exploded.

Two mercs left. I motioned for Garrus and Zaeed to get their sniper rifles ready before standing up and walking out of cover. Needless to say, the mercs couldn't resist the opportunity I'd handed them.

Needless to say, Garrus and Zaeed couldn't resist the opportunity to drill an extra hole in their heads.

I was already running by them as their bodies slumped over. The novelty of running into mercs was starting to get a bit thin, and I wanted to do some recon. So I scouted just far enough to see what was waiting for us—thanks to my cloak, of course—noted something else, and then got back to the others.

"Six mercs—including a biotic—and seven LOKI mechs," I reported. "Once they're down, we can access the service elevator. Oh, and we've been going in circles."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Jack asked.

"It means this is a circular tower and we've been literally going around in a circle," I replied. "Based on the view out the window, if we had blown a hole in the wall as soon as we got to the second floor, we could have been in the service elevator and going up ages ago."

"Naturally," Miranda muttered.

"Hindsight and all that," I sighed in commiseration. "Well, let's go."

"Actually," Garrus piped up. "Miranda and I were discussing an idea. There are an awful lot of thermal clips that the mercs dropped back there. Clips we can't carry with us because we don't have the space. Maybe we should use up some ammo so we could pick them up."

"I'm listening," I prompted.

* * *

><p>"I love this idea," I said, just before cloaking and firing another shot from my sniper rifle. I lowered my rifle, frowned, lifted the rifle and pulled the trigger again. This time, the merc went down.<p>

"It lacks elegance," Miranda commented beside me, "but it does solve our distance problem."

She was referring to the fact that most of our sneaky tricks and abilities only worked if we were relatively close to our target (or unless somebody else was relatively close and could use their sensor grid to guide our attacks). Sniper rifles, on the other hand, didn't have that problem.

In unison, Garrus and Zaeed fired off concussive rounds from their sniper rifles, the extra velocity successfully punching through the shields, helmet and grey matter of their targets. "I thought you'd like it," Garrus called out. "This was one of the perks of being Archangel back on Omega."

"Especially when you've got extra ammo," Zaeed added.

He had a point. Normally, we couldn't be quite so profligate with our ammo. But with all the extra thermal clips lying around, we could afford to be a little wasteful.

And by wasteful, I mean take down all six mercs with nothing but sniper shots.

Like I said, I loved this plan.

Now it wasn't really fair for the other squad members to be left out of the fun. That's why everybody else got to take on the mechs. Speaking of which, they were marching up to me, a little bounce in their steps.

"Have fun, everyone?" I guessed.

"You could say that," Tali nodded.

"Yes, sir," Jacob saluted.

"I'm hungry," Grunt rumbled.

"Good to hear it," I replied. **(3)** "Let's go clip hunting."

We wound up with a lot of loot. Plenty of thermal clips. A few power cells. A nice handful of creds. And, most importantly, a _sniper rifle_. A M-97 Viper, to be exact.

"Manufactured by Rosenkov Materials," Jacob immediately said when I showed it to him. "Designed for semi-automatic fire to counter barriers and shields, though it's primarily effective against armour. Larger ammo capacity than your Mantis rifle."

"Could be useful," I admitted.

I took it with me and headed over to a side room I'd noticed when picking up my new sniper rifle. Curiously, it was locked. I bypassed the locking mechanism and opened it, automatically raising my pistol as the doors slid open.

Three salarians were cowering inside. Civvies.

"Please... don't kill us!" one of them cried out. "We'll go... we'll go..."

"Hey, look," another said brightly. "They're not Eclipse."

"You're here to help us... right?" the first salarian asked.

I holstered my weapon. Behind me, I glimpsed the others doing the same. Guess they were also worried about potential hostiles. "It's one reason I'm here," I nodded. "Come on out. It's safe enough."

"Thank you," the second salarian said, bowing to me ever so slightly. "We are in your debt."

"Maybe you can return the favour by helping me out," I responded. "I'm looking for someone. Not a merc—he's on his own."

The first salarian scratched his head. "Well, how 'bout whoever sealed us in here?"

"When he found us, I thought we were dead," the second one explained. "But he just closed the door and locked us in."

"Sounds like our assassin was trying to keep them safe," Garrus mused.

"Strange behaviour for an assassin," Miranda observed.

"Assassin?" the first salarian repeated.

"Here for Nassana, I bet," the second one hissed. "She's got it coming. You treat people like this; it always comes back to bite you in the ass."

"Nassana's not your favourite person, Mister..."

"Daroth," the first salarian said. "She's a... hard woman to work for."

"That's an understatement!" the second one laughed bitterly. "She works us long hours. No overtime. And this is what you get in payment. I'm Shelum, by the way."

"She's unpleasant, to say the least," Daroth said with remarkable understatement.

"Why not just quit?"

Daroth lowered his head. "We would if we could."

"Our contract," Shelum clarified. "We're stuck until the job's done. Quitting for any reason can be hazardous to your health."

"We hear that anyone who leaves early tends to disappear," Daroth added. "Probably just a rumour."

"But who wants to find out for sure?" Shelum asked.

"Did you see the one who locked you in?" I asked in return. "Do you know where he might've gone?"

"He's no salarian, I can tell you that," Shelum said. "But I've no idea where he went. Sorry."

"But if he's after Nassana, he'll be heading to the upper levels," Daroth pointed out.

"How many workers were in the tower?" I wanted to know. "Are there many more of you?"

"Not alive," Shelum answered sadly. "We were lucky."

"Wait, some got out before the dogs were sent in," Daroth reminded him. **(4)** "Maybe a few are hiding somewhere."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But I wouldn't stay here and find out, if I were you. It should be safe down on the lower floors."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Daroth nodded. "Let's go, everybody."

Daroth and the salarian who hadn't spoken left the room. Shelum paused before following them. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome."

"And tell your assassin to aim for her head, because she doesn't have a heart!"

"Get moving," Daroth called out.

Once the salarians left, we went to the service elevator. I reached up to press the elevator controls and paused. Partly because the back of my neck was tingling again.

Partly because I'd noticed the display lights on the elevator were ticking down to our level. "Company," I warned. "I've got a feeling that elevator isn't coming down empty."

"We're a little exposed out here," Garrus warned.

"Fine," Grunt grumbled. "I guess we should get behind... stuff."

"Mezzanine," an automatic voice chimed out as we were getting behind various construction supplies. "Have a pleasant stay."

The doors popped open, revealing two Eclipse mercs—one who immediately launched a bolt of plasma, the other generating a combat drone.

And a krogan. With all the nasty regenerative powers of his species. And heavy armour. And shields.

Aw, crap.

"Teams One and Two on the krogan," I yelled.

As I'd hoped, the teams I'd chosen opened fire on the krogan—except for Miranda and Garrus, who dropped twin EMPs on his head. Kasumi launched an EMP of her own at one of the Eclipse mercs, significantly draining her shields. I lifted my sniper rifle to deliver the final blow.

Only it didn't. It took a couple shots to finish her off, which I accomplished at a faster rate and with non-existent recoil. Still, there was no denying this new sniper rifle packed less of a punch. I was beginning to see why the Viper needed more ammo.

Team Three was busy keeping the other Eclipse merc pinned down in the elevator, so I turned my attention back to the krogan. He was busy charging Team Two. Tali spawned her combat drone, Chikitta, but the krogan ran right over it—literally—before slapping Tali aside. She went flying through the air and into the wall. As she crumpled, Jack snarled and charged him. Grunt was quick to follow.

I was about to protest when I noticed my sensor readouts on the krogan. "Mordin, Miranda; get ready. Garrus, Kasumi; charge up for another EMP." I paused for a moment to make sure everyone was ready, then yelled: "Jack, Grunt; get down!"

They ducked just in time for Garrus and Kasumi to drain his shields. Mordin and I immediately fired off plasma rounds from our omni-tool, while Miranda sent a concentrated vortex of biotic energy flying into his face. Then I lifted my sniper rifle and used up the rest of my thermal clip firing headshots into the krogan.

As the krogan finally collapsed, I looked at the Viper sniper rifle. Neat rifle. I liked the rapid fire option. But it didn't seem to have the punch I was used to. Then again, maybe I just needed to get used to it. I decided to hang on to it for now.

Once I made sure Tali was all right, we got into the elevator.

Hopefully we wouldn't get stuck listening to horrible music.

* * *

><p>It was tricky trying to ready weapons when you have ten people crammed in the elevator, but we managed to do it nonetheless. We wanted to be ready for everything, after all.<p>

When we got out of the elevator, there was a lone Eclipse merc chatting on the comm. I motioned for everybody to be very, very quiet.

"I haven't heard from Teams Four or Five," the merc was saying. He hadn't noticed us yet, as he was facing the glass window that looked out across Nos Astra. "Don't worry, my team is always ready to go."

He paused for a moment. "I don't know where he is. Not yet." After another pause, he said "Don't worry about it."

As he approached, he reassured whoever was on the other end: "We don't need any reinforcements. I'll take care of it."

That apparently didn't cut it, because the merc was forced to talk again. "It's under control. I'll go down there myself. Talk to you later."

I waited a moment to ensure he'd cut the connection before pointing my gun at him. The rest of the squad followed. "Turn around," I ordered. "Very slowly."

He swivelled his body to look behind us. His shoulders sagged. "Damn it."

"Have you seen the assassin?" I asked, moving towards him.

He took a step back. "Why are you looking for him? You're not one of Nassana's mercs. Who are you?"

I took a few more steps forward, backing the merc against the window. "Answer my questions and I'll let you go," I offered.

"Look, pal, even if I knew where he was, I wouldn't tell you."

I frowned. "Not the answer I was looking for."

"I've got nothing more to say to you," the merc retorted, crossing his arms. "If you shoot me, my team's right through there. They'll be all over you."

"Let me ask you a question," I told him. "Is a little information really worth dying over?" I waited a second before adding "Is Nassana?"

"No... I suppose not."

It's a testament to how unpleasant Nassana was that even the hired help wouldn't stick to the contract they'd agreed to. For a merc, that's really saying something.

"Ok, look... last I heard, the assassin was down on the mezzanine," the merc revealed. "But the teams on the bridge think they might've spotted him. Nobody knows for sure."

Well we just came from the mezzanine, though I wasn't about to tell him that. My guess was that Thane was ahead of us. Well ahead, if he was already on the bridge. Time to stop asking questions and get a move on. "Get going," I said, nodding my head towards the elevator."

"I'm going," the merc assured me, heading off. Time for us to do the same.

"He owes you one," Garrus commented as I led the team out, scooping up a spare datapad along the way. "Anybody else would have killed him."

We entered a large room filled with lots of pillars, stacks of metal sheets and crates. Clearly this room, like everywhere else, was still under construction. Though why they needed volatile materials was beyond me.

"He's all over the place," someone whined.

We immediately crouched down. Slowly we crept forward. Peering around some construction materials, I saw several mercs scattered around and a bunch of powered-down mechs.

"What do you mean?" a female voice asked. She sounded very familiar for some reason.

"We've got reports of him on multiple levels," the merc said. "We think he's travelling through the ducts—"

"I'm not paying you to think," the voice snapped back. "Just find him. _Now!_"

"Come on," another voice groaned. "She'll be throwing us to the dogs next."

Speaking of which... I stood up and fired off a bolt of plasma at the closest FENRIS mech. Mordin did the same with the other. Then Miranda and Garrus simultaneously blew them up with EMPs.

"What the..."

"Troubl—gah!"

That was Kasumi, shorting out one of the merc's shields. Grunt and Jack teamed up to eliminate the nearest LOKI mech, who was getting to its feet. Jacob and Zaeed almost did the same with another—they didn't exactly destroy it, but they weakened it enough that a stray shot from Tali finished it off.

By then, there were only a couple mercs left. One of them was the one Kasumi had attacked. I finished him off with another fireball. The other two—one asari, one human—were smart enough to stay as far away as possible, at least until backup arrived. I wasn't going to wait that long, of course. I squinted through my scope and fired the rest of my clip at the asari. It was an interesting change to be able to fire more than one shot with a thermal clip. Just wish it packed more of a punch, though. Standing out of cover, even with my cloak, wasn't exactly the smartest idea.

Not that the mercs were able to capitalize on it. As I watched, the human merc slumped over, victim to a sustained barrage from Teams Two and Three. The asari, realizing she was all alone, tried to move into a better position. It was then that she was close enough for my sensors to get a read on her. She was seriously injured, without any armour or barriers to speak of. She was just asking to be finished off, so I obliged.

Once her charred body hit the ground, we searched around for thermal clips. As I picked one up,

"Hello?" a voice called out over the PA, just as I scooped up some thermal clips. "Hello? Damn it, where _is _everyone?" It was then that I realized that the cranky lady must be my old pal Nassana.

I noticed that there was a door nearby which was locked. I motioned the others over.

"Will somebody _please _give me a report? Answer me, damn it!"

Ignoring Nassana, I bypassed the lock, and we entered the room.

There were a couple salarians inside. Plus a merc lying on the floor. "Are you guys all right in here?" I asked.

"Get back!" one of them cried out, lifting a pistol. "Get back... I'll shoot."

"Drop the gun, lizard," Grunt growled. **(5)**

The salarian wasn't listening. "I don't want to hurt you... but I will. I said get back! I'll do it! Please..." he whimpered, "don't make me do it."

"Hey, I'm not the bad guy here," I said. "What's your name?"

The salarian swayed back and forth. "I... I'm Telon. Don't... don't come any closer."

"Telon, I'm Commander Shepard," I greeted him. "I don't work with the mercs and I don't want to hurt you. I'm here to help."

"I... all right... here..." Telon handed me his pistol and swayed back and forth again. "I... don't feel so..." his eyes rolled up and he collapsed on the ground before he could finish.

"Telon!" Another salarian rushed forward. The sudden movement triggered old reflexes, which may be why I suddenly found myself pointing a gun at him. "He's my brother," he explained. "I just want to see if he's all right."

I motioned for him to continue. He checked his pulse for a minute, then looked up. "Are you the ones who... shot the merc?"

I glanced at the merc and shook my head. "It wasn't me. Your brother didn't do it, Mister ...?"

"Chesith," the salarian offered. "And no. Telon was standing here with me."

"What happened, exactly?" I asked, holstering my pistol.

"The merc found us and shouted at us to move," Chesith explained. "We panicked and he shouted more. I thought he was going to kill us... then... his head just _exploded_. Telon picked up the merc's gun, but we were too afraid to leave. Then you showed up."

So Thane didn't have as much of a lead on us as I had thought. Good to know. What was more impressive was the way the merc was taken out. I glanced over at Garrus, who was thinking the same thing. "A perfect headshot with no collateral damage," he murmured. "Very impressive."

"How safe is that bridge out there?" I wanted to know.

"The bridge is stable, but the wind's your real problem," Chesith told me. "If it doesn't throw you off, the mercs will definitely try. There's a lot of them out there."

"And the bridge is the only way to the penthouse in the other tower?" I pressed, hoping that there might be some other route.

My hopes were predictably dashed. "From here? Yeah. It won't be easy with the mercs. Whatever Nassana's hiding from must be pretty scary."

"Like you said, the mercs are still up here," I said. "You should get to the lower levels. We just came from there and dealt with any mercs or mechs we found, so it should be safer."

"No need to convince me," Chesith nodded, getting to his feet. "Telon... come on, get up." He helped his brother to his feet.

"Can we go home now?" Telon asked plaintively, staring at the floor.

"Yeah, we're getting out of here," Chesith said. Telon and the third salarian, who had never spoken up to this point, left the room. "Thank you," Chesith added with a slight bow before following.

Exiting the room, I saw there was a ramp leading up to the next floor. There were a couple more thermal clips, a spare power cell and some sort of comm terminal right next to it. As I grabbed the power cell, Nassana yelled out "Somebody get down there and tell me what's going on!"

On a whim, I reached out and activated the comm. "It's about time," Nassana snapped. "What's going on down there?"

I couldn't resist. "I'm afraid your men aren't able to respond at this time, Nassana. Can I take a message?"

"Damn it!"

Hee, hee.

The ramp actually led us to the roof, rather than another floor as I had thought. The squad quickly got into cover. Good thing too, as an asari and several LOKI mechs was there to greet us. By this point, we all knew our jobs—anyone who could damage the asari's barriers did so; anyone who could crack the mechs' armour did so; everyone else raised their guns and opened fire.

"Subdue and suppress," one of the mechs said before Grunt took it down with a concussive round.

"Excuse me," another one said politely to Chikkita, which Tali had sent out as a distraction. The combat drone chirped once in reply before zapping the mech. They both blew up.

Turning my attention back to the asari, I saw her barriers were down and she was way too close for comfort. So I set her on fire. And punched her. Several times. Looking up, I spied another asari off in the distance. I fired off a half dozen shots. Only drained her barriers by a third. Seeing the difficulty I was having, Miranda detonated a blast of biotics against her barriers. The asari promptly ducked down.

Just as another one showed up. Great.

We immediately opened fire with gunfire and concussive rounds. I motioned for Team Two to move up while the rest of us were occupying the asari. Speaking of which, I saw that one of them was defenceless. I sent some plasma fire her way. The fireball arced towards her and burst into flame...

...after she raised her barriers again. Damn it!

Miranda and Grunt promptly fired off another blast of biotics and concussive rounds. I lifted my sniper rifle, centred on her head and squeezed the trigger. And again. And again. I kept firing, ignoring the impacts I felt as gunfire hit my shields. As long as I didn't take too much damage, I wasn't about to flinch and lose my sight on the target. I fired again. This time, a spray of blue-purple blood came out the other end and the asari dropped.

"Nice shot," Zaeed complimented me, firing a concussive round of his own. That took out the last merc. We were safe. For now.

I decided to switch back to the Mantis sniper rifle, favouring its increased damage output over its comparatively reduced payload. Besides, it wasn't like I was unfamiliar with conserving ammo. Waving to the squad to follow, I headed around the corner, scooping up some eezo along the way.

"Forget the explosives," we heard. "He's already past us." A moment later, we stumbled into another room. Naturally it was filled with several mercs and mechs.

"We're compromised!" one of them warned.

"Look out! They're behind us too!"

Miranda and Grunt immediately attacked the closest merc—a biotic judging by the ball of blue light he threw back at them—while I melted a mech's armour. Kasumi blew it up a second later, while I pulled out my sniper rifle. Aimed on the merc biotic—or is that biotic merc?—lined up a headshot, breathed out and fired. One shot, one kill. Now _that's _what I'm talking about!

I was about to find another merc to shoot when I spotted an asari creeping towards us. An asari who, according to my sensors, had barriers _and_ armour protecting her. Clearly this was one of the senior mercs.

"Teams One and Two on the asari," I immediately ordered. "Give her everything you've got. Team Three; the rest are yours."

Miranda immediately sent a burst of biotics to start draining the asari's barriers; Grunt and Garrus finished that job off with their concussive rounds. I immediately sent some plasma off to explode against her armour. She stumbled back, slapping the flames out and looked around. Her eyes focused on me. "I'll tear you apart!" she snarled.

Aw, crap.

She immediately moved towards me, ignoring all the gunfire around her. I kept a nervous eye on her and another on my HUD. As soon as it indicated another round of plasma was ready, I sent it off. Didn't quite burn through her armour, though. I watched as she hopped on top of the platform I was hiding behind and walked towards me. My fingers gripped on my sniper rifle...

...and then I saw that someone's gunfire—whoever it was—had destroyed the remnants of her armour. "Grunt!" I barked.

"On it," he, well, grunted. He lifted his assault rifle up and fired off a concussive round. It hit her right in the midsection, knocking her off the platform. "Yeah!" he cheered. "Right on your ass!"

A second later, my omni-tool was ready again, and I set her on fire. Miranda finished her off with her biotics.

Turning back to the battlefield, I was surprised to see that all the other mercs and mechs were dead or destroyed. So it was time to indulge in my favourite activity—looting.

Next to some dead merc was a small treasure trove of items. We managed to scrounge up some creds and medi-gel, not to mention scan a submachine gun for a potentially nifty upgrade. There was also a PDA full of creds. While I was hacking it, I felt like I was shaking. Maybe I was getting nervous? All those near-deaths were starting to catch up with me?

It was only when I finished hacking the PDA that I realized what was going on. The wind really was strong up here. I gave the order to move out, adding a warning for everyone to watch your step.

"They've seen us," Miranda warned as several LOKI mechs stood up and started firing.

"I don't care what you do," Nassana yelled over the loudspeakers, "no one gets across that bridge!"

We quickly blew through them and waited for the next batch to show up. They didn't. Cautiously, I crept forward. About halfway across the bridge, I halted. I still didn't see any mercs or mechs, but that wasn't what concerned me.

No, what concerned me was the pair of rocket drones stationed at the far end of the bridge. I lifted my sniper rifle, cloaked and aimed. Boy, this wind was making it really hard to get a good shot. I wound up settling for hitting its centre of mass, though I wasn't sure if I actually hit it.

I do know that my shot finally woke up the mercs to come after us. Oops.

Backpedalling back, I noted with some amusement that the mercs actually missed me. Usually they could knock a bit off my shields. Not that I'm complaining. A few basic troopers were the first to join the party. We zapped their shields, set them on fire and sent them on their merry way.

The asari was a little trickier. Thankfully, the wind slowed her down, forcing her to carefully pick her away across the bridge. We used that to blast through her barriers. Miranda was the one who eventually took them down. While the asari was still blinded by Miranda's biotic attack, I sent a fireball towards her. Grunt fired the kill shot—rather gleefully, I thought.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Nassana demanded. "Just kill them!"

On cue, the rocket drones started firing. It didn't take long to gauge how quickly they could fire. Then we moved across the bridge, slowly leapfrogging from cover to cover.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long before the drones locked on to us and pinned us down. Another pack of mercs picked that time to show up and opened fire as well. They didn't advance, though. Guess they were afraid they'd accidentally get blown up by the rockets.

Fine by us. We took turns popping out of cover and firing something or other at the mercs. It didn't take long before we'd disabled all of the troopers' shields. Then Jacob and Jack had fun lifting them up with their biotics, yanking them way out of cover and into the sky where the rest of us could take pot shots, even while hiding. I think our favourite tactic was to fire concussive rounds while they were floating, watching as the resulting impact sent them hurtling over the edge, and listening to them scream when the biotic fields wore off and they plummeted countless stories down to the pavement below.

Hee, hee.

That was too good for the asari, though. No, we just chipped away at her barriers, set her on fire and listened to her gargle and gurgle.

Hee, hee... okay. Maybe I'm getting a bit too much pleasure out of this.

Before the latest wave of mercs graced us with their presence, I moved forward to the next bit of cover. Now that I was close enough, I could use my sniper rifle to guide the squad's EMP. We managed to take out one of the drones and damage the other one before merc reinforcements showed up.

Again, none of them wanted to get too close. Still worried about the targeting systems on that last merc, I guess. **(6)** Fine by me—we just stayed back and fired EMPs, biotic attacks, concussive rounds and plasma. One by one, we took down the drones, the troopers and the asari too.

"I'm sending in reinforcements!" Nassana announced, not realizing that all the other mercs were dead.

Those reinforcements turned out to be one lone asari, albeit one toting a hefty set of armour along with her barriers, a nasty looking shotgun and a sour expression on her face.

No other reinforcements backing her up. Either she was that good or Nassana was running out of options. I got everyone into position and stood up. The asari took the bait, moving out of cover to attack. I immediately dropped down.

The asari took three concussive rounds and a biotic attack to the face, obliterating her barriers instantly and damaging her armour. Mordin and I took care of her armour with twin plasma blasts.

"Damn it! Finish them off!" Nassana yelled.

Too bad Nassana didn't specify who was supposed to be finished off.

Tali sent her drone Chikitta towards her. The asari looked at it with annoyance and slapped it away. Chikitta chirped angrily and zapped her with an electrical surge. Unfortunately, the drone was blown away with a shotgun round for its trouble. That was more than enough distraction for Kasumi, who snuck up behind her and delivered a devastating jolt of energy through her omni-tool. Jack finished her off with a biotic shockwave that sent her slamming into the wall.

And that was that. Time to pay Nassana a visit.

* * *

><p>Nassana was dressed in an expensive-looking robe, flanked by a trio of mercs. Her mouth dropped when she saw us. Well, me, specifically.<p>

"Shepard?" she sputtered. "But... you're dead."

"I got better," I shrugged.

"And now you're here to kill me," she said.

"Maybe I just missed you," I grinned.

"Screw you, Shepard!" she snapped, swivelling around to stare out the window.

"Charming as ever," I noted.

Nassana turned back and scowled at me. "I'm sure you find this all very ironic. First you take care of my sister and now you're here for me. Well, you made it this far. Now what?"

"You really think I'm here to kill you?" I asked.

"Do you have another reason for destroying my tower?" she retorted. "Decimating my security?"

"I'm just looking for someone," I replied.

"You expect me to believe that?" she sniffed. "Is it credits? Is that what you want?"

Typical. Rich gals always think they can buy their way out. Especially asari, who think they're the universe's gift to drooling humans—boys and girls alike. Still, as long as she thought we were negotiating, the longer we could drag things out.

And the more time Thane would have to get into position.

"Make me an offer," I said.

She looked at me appraisingly and smiled, no doubt amused by the prospect of buying off a Spectre. "Double whatever you're getting."

I heard a hollow thud above us. I didn't want to look at my squad to see if they heard it, as that would give things away. Didn't have to, as it turned out—the mercs heard it too.

Nassana didn't, though, as she continued to spell out her offer. "And I'll pay double again if you tell me who hired you."

She eventually noticed that her mercs were suddenly on edge—more than usual, I mean. The way her mercs were suddenly sweeping the room with their weapons probably gave things away. "What?" she barked.

"I heard something," one of the mercs, an asari, said.

"Me too," another merc confirmed.

"Damn it!" Nassana cursed. "Check the other entrances! You stay put!"

Nassana had turned in our direction to issue that last sentence at us, and the mercs were starting to move apart in order to carry out her order. So none of them noticed the drell who dropped through the air vent into the room.

"When I'm finished dealing with this nuisance," Nassana continued, "you and I are going to... Who...?"

By then, the drell—Thane, presumably—had sprung into action. He reached up, grabbed one of the mercs and snapped his neck. As that merc dropped, he took a step to his left and jabbed forward with his hand, crushing the larynx of merc number two. As that merc gargled, Thane took a step to the side, keeping the second merc between him and the asari so she couldn't get a clear shot. His pistol seemingly jumped into his hand, which he used to drill a neat hole between the asari's eyes as soon as he had a shot. Then he slapped Nassana's hand aside, knocking the pistol she had somehow pulled out of her robes away and jabbed his pistol into her chest. They stared at each other for a moment before he pulled the trigger.

I checked my chronometer. Ten seconds had elapsed from the time he had dropped into the room to the time he had shot Nassana. While taking out three mercs in the process. Very impressive.

Thane gently lowered her to her desk as she gurgled and sighed. He arranged her hands over her chest, like the way the dead are arranged before funerals or burials, and looked at her. Then he clasped his own hands and bowed his head.

"So _this _is our guy," Grunt grinned. "Good."

"You certainly know how to make an entrance," Garrus told him.

Thane didn't respond. It looked like he was in the midst of a... prayer?

"I was hoping to talk to you," I finally said after a minute.

A second later, Thane lifted his head. "I apologize, but prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken."

"Do you really think she deserves it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Not for her. For me."

Interesting.

"The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern by actions alone. Take you, for instance. All this destruction. All this chaos."

It's kind of sad that a couple months ago, I would have disagreed with him. Now? I might look to add that as my middle name. Or a second middle name. Whatever.

"I was curious to see how far you'd go to find me," he admitted, walking around the desk—and Nassana's body. "Well... here I am."

"How did you know I was coming at all?" I asked.

"I didn't," he replied. "Not until you marched in the front door and started shooting. Nassana had become paranoid. You saw the strength of her guard force. She believed one of her sisters would kill her.

"I prefer to work quietly. If I have to fight through guards, I've made a mistake. I rarely make mistakes."

Yeah. My N7 instructors would probably be appalled to learn just how much noise I made clambering around the battlefield.

"You disrupted my plan, but your actions allowed me to complete my mission nonetheless. You were a valuable distraction."

"Let's cut to the chase," I said. "I need you for a mission of my own."

"Indeed?"

"You're familiar with the Collectors?" I asked.

"By reputation," Thane nodded. He walked past me to stare out the window—or at Nassana, I wasn't sure which.

"They're abducting entire human colonies," I told him. "Freedom's Progress, Ferris Fields, Horizon—that was their handiwork."

"I see."

"We're going after them."

Thane whipped his head back towards me. "Attacking the Collectors would require passing through the Omega 4 relay. No ship has ever returned from doing so."

"They told me it was impossible to get to Ilos, too," I shrugged.

"A fair point," he conceded. "You've built a career on performing the impossible."

Not by choice.

"This was to be my last job," he revealed. "I'm dying."

Oh.

"Low survival odds don't concern me. The abduction of your colonists does."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?" I offered.

Thane graciously came to my rescue. "There is little you or anyone can do. My condition is not contagious and it won't affect my work. Giving me this opportunity is enough, however. The universe is a dark place. I'm trying to make it brighter before I die."

Thane turned towards me. "Many innocents died today. I wasn't fast enough and they suffered. I must atone for that. I will work for you, Shepard. No charge."

We shook hands to seal the deal.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

><p>As usual, Miranda, Garrus, Jacob and I took the latest recruit to the comm room for an informal chat. "Welcome to the Normandy, Mr. Krios," Miranda started. "If the stories and your kill list is any indication, it will be a pleasure to have someone with your expertise on board."<p>

"Sounds like you'll be an asset to the team," Garrus agreed.

Jacob snorted. "Yeah, if you're comfortable having an assassin watch your back."

"I've accepted a contract," Thane replied. "My arm is Shepard's."

"Uh huh." Jacob made no effort to conceal his doubt or disdain. "Don't know about you, but I'm loyal to more than my next pay check."

"Obviously he is, too," I butted in. "He's doing this mission gratis, remember? What's your concern?"

"I don't like mercenaries," Jacob said bluntly. "An assassin is just a precise mercenary."

Interesting that Jacob didn't have any similar comments about Zaeed. Maybe he found a bounty hunter more acceptable than a flat-out assassin. Besides, it wasn't as if Zaeed gave him a chance to air any grievances.

"An assassin is a weapon," Thane corrected politely. "A weapon doesn't choose to kill. The one who wields it does.

"Where shall I put my things?" he asked, changing the topic. "I'd prefer someplace dry, if anything is available."

EDI's avatar popped up in front of him. "The area near the life support plant on the crew deck tends to be slightly more arid than the rest of the ship."

Thane took EDI's appearance in stride. "Ah. An AI? My thanks." He offered a bow towards EDI to demonstrate his appreciation, then nodded towards me. Apparently my return nod indicated that the conversation was over—which it was, I suppose—as he subsequently departed.

"He seems quite civil," EDI approved before vanishing.

"We need all the help we can get," I reminded Jacob. "He's not what I expected in an assassin. He may surprise you."

"Yeah," Jacob scowled. "And he may not." He left without another word.

I made a mental note to stick Thane with my team. That would balance out the snipers and biotics between Teams One and Two. **(7)** Not to mention that Jacob could focus on his job and not his newly vocalized distrust of guns-for-hire.

Having made that choice, I decided to find out more about my new teammate, so I went down to Life Support on Deck Three after dismissing Miranda and Garrus. Thane had already unpacked an impressive set of weapons, which he had mounted in his 'room' rather than in the Armoury. He was sitting at a table when I arrived, staring out the window at the power core.

"Do you need something?" he asked.

"I like to know my crew. You mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Not at all," he replied.

"The drell live on the hanar homeworld, don't they?" I started. I couldn't imagine living side by side with a race that was so fixated on politeness, formality and protocol. "What's that like?"

Thane knew what I was getting at. "I know many think the hanar difficult to understand," he said. "It's just that they're very formal with those they don't know. We know them quite well. If you ever get close enough to a hanar that they tell you their Soul Name, you would find them warm." **(8)**

"I thought that hanar only let very close friends know their Soul Name," I said. "How do they differ from their usual names?"

"Most of my commissions were for hanar," Thane replied. "I grew close to my regular contacts. Soul Names tend to be poetic. A hanar known for its cynicism might take a name that means 'Illuminates the Folly of the Dancers.'"

"How did you get to know them?" I wanted to know. "Hanar talk using bioluminescence. Isn't that more of an obstacle than simply being polite or formal?"

"True," he conceded. "Many drell, such as myself, have their eyes genetically modified to perceive their higher frequency flashes. I can't tell the difference between a dark red and black, but I can see ultraviolet light as a silver colour."

Seeing UV light. That was kinda cool. "You took a moment after killing Nassana to pray for her. Who exactly do you pray to?"

"To find my target, I speak with Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. When I act to defend another—Arashu, Goddess of Motherhood and Protection. And when I have taken my target, I speak with Kalahira, Goddess of Oceans and the Afterlife."

That was a lot of deities to keep in your address book. "I didn't know that drell had many gods," I admitted.

"It is one of our older beliefs," Thane replied. "Many embrace the hanar Enkindlers now or the asari philosophies. The old ways are dying. There are so many ways to interpret one's place in the universe. Who needs the wisdom of our ancestors? The younger generations don't believe they can help us fathom genetic engineering, orbital strikes or alien races."

Fair point. Many of Earth's religions either faced enormous restructuring or collapsed entirely after humanity discovered the Prothean data cache on Mars.

"Why would Kalahira oversee oceans and the afterlife?" I asked. "They don't seem to have much in common."

"Consider—the ocean is full of life. Yet it is not life as you and I know it. To survive there, we must release our hold on land. Accept a new way to live."

Swimming instead of walking. Adapting. Embracing new ways of thinking and living. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.

"So it is with death. The soul must accept its departure from the body. If it cannot, it will be lost."

"There's one more thing," I said tentatively. "When we met, you said you were dying."

"Yes, I thought you'd want to know more," he replied calmly. "As I said before, you don't have to worry about the rest of the crew. My illness is not communicable, even to other drell. It's called Kepral's Syndrome."

"What exactly is the problem?"

"My people are native to an arid world," Thane explained. "Most of us now live on Kahje, the hanar homeworld. It's very humid and rains every day. Our lungs can't deal with the moisture. Over time, the tissue loses its ability to absorb oxygen. It becomes harder to breathe. Eventually, we suffocate."

"Has there been any research to investigate that?" I wanted to know.

"The hanar have funded a genetic engineering program. They should be able to adapt us. The project has only been running for a few years, though. I don't believe my body will still draw breath by the time it bears fruit."

"Have your people considered _not _living on Kahje?" I asked. "Or using breathers?"

He shook his head. "Drell have a close relationship with the hanar. We rely on each other. The best we can do is keep our homes very dry inside."

"How long do you have?" Blunt, I know, but that's one of the joys of being the CO.

"I should be fine for another eight to twelve months. The more time I spend in humid environments, the faster it progresses. I think it's safe to say that by the time my body is incapacitated, we will be victorious," he added dryly. "Or dead. Either way, I won't be a burden to you."

Heh. I had to say, I liked his sense of humour.

"Is there anything we can do here?" I asked. "Normandy has a state-of-the-art medical bay." **(9)**

"No, thank you," he declined. "It's being attended to. If the finest medical minds in the hanar Illuminated Primacy can't solve the problem, I doubt your ship's medic could."

Somehow, I think Mordin wouldn't have minded taking a crack at it, even though he seemed to have a ridiculous amount of projects on his plate as it was. I made a mental note to bring it up at some point.

"Thank you for your concern," Thane said. "Trust me—this won't affect my performance."

Of that, I had little doubt. If nothing else, it would be... interesting.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Ms. Dantius originally requested Shepard's help in rescuing her sister on the pretence that she had been abducted. It later turned out that the sister was the leader of a small band of slavers, a fact that could cause considerable embarrassment to her career as a diplomatic emissary.<em>

_(2): Following the self-centred rationalization he uses to downplay his actions, one should note that Shepard rarely needed medi-gel to heal himself or his squad—at least, not in significant quantities. Therefore, he could afford to spare some to help this civilian. However, his other actions indicate that he would probably have done so anyway. _

_(3): Shepard never actually explains to whom he was replying to. _

_(4): Their reference to the FENRIS mech as dogs was probably an identification of the species they most commonly represented rather than recognition of Fenris as the wolf of Norse mythology. _

_(5): An ironic reference, given that krogans also have a reptilian origin. _

_(6): Another option was that the mercenaries were unwilling to get close to the squad who had torn through numerous teams of their compatriots without much difficulty. _

_(7): Shepard evidently regarded the two-team squad configuration as his default choice. It is worth noting that this option allowed each team to further divide into two smaller teams as the situation warranted—an excellent tactical advantage._

_(8): Hanar have two names—a 'face name' that serves as a general label to be used by strangers and acquaintances, and a 'soul name' that is reserved for close friends and relations. _

_(9): Actually, the Normandy's medical bay is only equipped for first aid and short-term medical care. Anything requiring significant or critical care would have to be transferred to a more extensive and comprehensive medical facility. _


	20. Strength and Honour

**Chapter 16: Strength and Honour**

Next on my list was Samara, an asari justicar who had left asari space to sightsee around the asari world Illium. Yeah, I'm still scratching my head about that one. Anyway, Liara said that justicars were a sort of monastic warrior order that usually stuck closer to home. For whatever reason, Samara had travelled all the way out here, registering with a Tracking Officer named Dara. So I went to find Dara so she could point me in the right direction.

On the way, I chatted with Tana, whose colleague Seryna had led me to Thane. Turned out Seryna left for a new job offworld without saying goodbye to anyone, though she did take the time to leave me a recorded message:

"_Hey Shepard. I was on my way to a new life when the news burst arrived. The bitch is dead. I assume that means your friend is alive and he finished his job. Tell him if I ever see him, I'll buy him a drink."_

Always good to know your work is appreciated.

We got to Officer Dara's office a minute later. Turned out it was right behind the bench where I'd bumped into Shiala.

"Welcome to Illium," she greeted us politely. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm looking for an asari warrior named Samara," I started.

A look of concern—and panic—immediately spread over Dara's face. "Wait. What? Why? Do you have a problem or... oh Goddess!" she gasped, springing to her feet. "Did she kill somebody already?"

Already?

"Relax—I just need to speak with her," I said soothingly.

"Good," Dara sighed in relief. "Samara's the first justicar I've seen on Illium. If I'm lucky, things will stay peaceful. She went to the commercial spaceport a few hours ago. If you want to get there, the pedestal on that balcony will summon a cab."

I knew that pedestal. We'd used it to rustle up a few aircars when we were going to recruit Thane. So I didn't bother to look at it, focusing on Dara instead. "Just be polite when you meet her," she was saying. "Justicars embody our highest laws and they usually stay in asari space. She's not used to dealing with aliens."

"Is Samara really that dangerous?" I asked.

Dara shrugged. "If you follow the laws, you've got _nothing_ to fear. And a justicar would diewithout hesitation to protect the innocent. But their code orders them to stop lawbreakers. With lethal force, in most cases. And everyone skirts the law somehow on Illium. If someone tried to bribe her, she'd be obliged to gun them down as a matter of honour. I'm hoping to avoid that."

No chance of that happening with me. I don't have enough credits to spare. **(1)** "Tell me about the justicars."

"They're a monastic order. They've given up their families and possessions to follow their code. Most of them are on some lifelong mission, but they'll always stop to deal with any injustice they encounter. Which can be a problem."

For anyone dealing out injustice or anyone else stuck with cleaning things up, I surmised.

"In some ways, they're a lot like the Spectres, undertaking personal missions."

"Spectres are authorized by the Council," I pointed out. "Who do justicars represent?"

Dara looked at me blankly. "What? That's like... I don't know a good human metaphor. They represent their code. Our code. It's closer to a religious group than a legal branch. But no law-abiding asari would question a justicar's orders. _Nobody _becomes a justicar for personal gain. And they'd _die_ before breaking their oaths."

So asari were like followers of a religion that only became devout for an hour or so each week, while justicars were like mad preachers who spent their time telling everybody else to behave. Or smiting the unbelievers. Or both.

"Why are you so worried about other species coming into contact with her?" I wanted to know.

"If a justicar kills an asari, none of us questions it. But if she killed a human... Do you think the Alliance would understand her actions and respect her authority? You can't even figure out your own religions. It's a big diplomatic incident just waiting to happen."

I guess I could see what was going on. The antics of a justicar might fly in an asari-only world where their authority as a representative of their code—albeit a more stringent interpretation of one—was law. Not so much when dealing with other species, who might have a separation between state and religion. Or multiple religions.

We chatted for a bit more, then hailed a couple aircars to take us to the spaceport. As we landed, I spotted a volus waddling by, with a pair of armed turian guards behind him. And an asari who was speed-walking towards him.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded as we got out.

"_*hiss*_ I'm taking my goods to Omega, Detective," the volus said, turning around.

"You're not going anywhere, merchant," the asari detective said flatly. "Not until I solve this murder."

The volus protested between huffs from his breather. "_*hiss*_ I had nothing to do with that! _*hiss*_ It was those mercenary thugs you can't seem to get rid of. _*hiss*_"

"The victim was your business partner and I'm not ruling you out," she scowled. "I'll let you know when you can leave."

"_*hiss*_ What about that justicar that just showed up?" the volus protested. "_*hiss*_ Everyone says she might go crazy and start killing! *hiss* I need to leave."

The detective smiled sweetly. "She'll only kill the unjust—so I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, Pitne For. Find me in the station if you need me."

Pitne For shook his head as the detective walked away, then noticed the rest of us staring his way. I decided to chat with him while he was still rattled by the prospect of impending doom.

"_*hiss*_ What do you want?" he sighed. "_*hiss*_ I've already got mercs wanting to kill me like they did my partner! I don't need any more trouble. _*hiss*_ As if that weren't enough, some asari justicar showed up this week. _*hiss*_ All the natives are scared of her. _*hiss*_ I've got to get off this world."

"Has Samara actually done anything yet?" I asked.

"_*hiss* _The asari say that justicars are lethal in a fight, _*hiss* _and if they so much as smell corruption, _*hiss* _they start shooting. _*hiss* _The thing is, corruption isn't that hard to find around here."

"Do you know where I could find the justicar?"

"_*hiss* _She's in the alley where my business partner was murdered." Pitne For pointed behind me to an area that was roped off by lasers. "_*hiss* _A detective sealed the area, so you'll have to talk with her if you want to go there. _*hiss*_"

"Why do you think it was mercenaries?" I asked him.

"_*hiss*_ Dakni Kur was cutting through a back alley last night when someone killed him with a shotgun. _*hiss* _I saw his body this morning—_*hiss* _they'd used modded rounds. _*hiss* _That means Eclipse mercs."

Not for the first time, I marvelled at how thoroughly they'd taken over the latest merc industry. "You must know something about these Eclipse mercs," I said.

"_*hiss* _I occasionally do business with them," he admitted, "_*hiss* _but only in well-lit places with my guards. _*hiss* _And only after the creds clear. _*hiss*_ This is a scummy bunch, even by merc standards. _*hiss* _They sell red sand, _*hiss* _all kinds of illegal items _*hiss* _and they are all cold-blooded killers." **(2)**

"Why would these mercs kill him," I wondered," and why do you think they're coming after you, too?"

"_*hiss* _I have no idea—we're innocent merchants! _*hiss*_ But they killed him, so they must be after me, too. _*hiss* _I have to work the angles and get out of here."

Oh yeah. Really feeling the love here. "You don't seem too broken up about your partner's death," I observed.

He shook his head. "_*hiss* _Dakni Kur knew the risks when he took to spacing. _*hiss* _Right now, my worry is me. _*hiss* _It's unhealthy to be a volus in the Nos Astra spaceport right now. _*hiss* _Especially a volus named Pitne For!"

It didn't look like I'd get any more out of him, so I said my goodbyes and went to find the detective who had sealed off the area where the justicar was last seen. It turned out that her name was Anaya, and she was the same detective who I spotted talking to Pitne For earlier. Up close, I noticed she had a darker complexion—more of an indigo-purple than blue. I didn't know if that meant anything, though—lots of asari had that skin tone.

"Nice guns—try not to use them in my district," she said dryly. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for an asari warrior named Samara," I said, sitting down.

A faint look of exasperation rippled across her face. "If you've got a score to settle with Samara, take it somewhere else—I've got more than enough trouble here already."

"I'm just here to recruit Samara for my mission, then we'll be on our way," I reassured her.

She leaned towards me, a thoughtful look on her face. "Justicars usually work alone, but they are drawn to impossible causes."

"Best kind," Grunt grinned.

"If you're getting her out of my district, I'll get you to her ASAP," she said. "She's at the crime scene of a murder that happened last night."

I raised an eyebrow. "She didn't demand admittance? You just let her waltz into a sealed crime scene?"

"I'm a cop," she said simply. "I'll work with a justicar all I can. Besides, she's been looking at crime scenes longer than our two life spans combined. She knows how to handle herself."

Ah. Justicar might have her downsides, but she's willing to offer her aid and experience for free. Still, that didn't mean she wanted Samara hanging around for long. "You're awfully anxious to get Samara out of your district," I commented, wondering what she might say.

As I'd guessed, the answer had everything to do with politics and bureaucracy. "My bosses want me to detain her," she admitted. "They're worried she'll cause some kind of cross-species incident. But her Justicar Code won't let her be taken into custody. If I try it, she'll have to kill me. I have no interest in dying, so if you can lure her away with some big noble cause before I have to carry out my orders, I'd be thrilled to help you."

Smart. Unlike her bosses. "Your superiors are sending you to certain death for no good reason," I told her. "You have a right to disobey."

That sounded better in my head. It was only once the words slipped out of my mouth that I realized that my squad might interpret them differently. Sure enough, they reacted to my comments.

"We can disobey suicidal orders?" Garrus whispered in a tone of mock surprise. "Why wasn't I told?"

"Let's remember that the next time Shepard sets us up against impossible odds," Tali chimed in.

"That's about twice a day," Miranda chimed in with a straight face.

My squad is composed of smart mouths. Every single one of them. **(3) **"Most of the time, I'm not being stupid about it," I retorted. "I can't say the same for Anaya's superiors."

"I know my duty," she replied. "I've been ordered to detain her and I will—unless I can get her to leave my district first."

Ah, lowly underlings. Finding loopholes and re-interpretations around the stupid orders of REMFs since time began. And there was a damn good reason to look for creative solutions. "Samara would kill a cop?" I asked. "That doesn't sound very just."

"She would die defending an honest cop, but she'd fight an army of dirty cops to the death."

There's that dying part again. I was starting to think that being halfway suicidal was a prerequisite for joining the justicars. Boy was that familiar.

"I admire her dedication, but her presence is still a big problem."

"Then maybe I should go find her and convince her to join me before you have to carry out your orders," I decided. "Can you get me access to the crime scene?"

"I'll send word to let you in," she nodded. "It's outside, around the corner to the left. Be careful—the local Eclipse mercs have been all over those back alleys lately."

Local Eclipse mercs. As opposed to the other kind. "What exactly happened at the crime scene?" I leaned forward.

Anaya got up to stretch her legs or something. "A volus merchant was murdered," she replied. "It was a professional hit, so we're not dealing with junkies looking for a score. I'm thinking the local Eclipse mercenary band. Can't prove it, but if the volus was dirty too, maybe it's just a deal gone bad."

I asked her about Eclipse, but it turned out that I knew most of what she had to say. Just about the only new thing I learned was that they also dabbled in smuggling crooks off-world. "Aren't there any other merc groups on Illium?" I wanted to know. "Blue Suns? Blood Pack?"

"There was a contingent of Blood Pack that tried to set up base here sixty or seventy years ago," she said.

"And?"

"They either got killed or had a nervous breakdown and fled offworld screaming for their lives."

"Charming," I said dryly. "What can you tell me about justicars? I'd never heard of them until a week ago."

"They're a kind of... humans might call them 'warrior monks,'" Anaya replied. "They live by a complex code that compels them to punish the wicked and protect the pure. They've been a part of asari culture for millennia. I read adventure stories about justicars when I was a child. They always seemed so... cool, I guess. Bigger than life, you know? Charging through the bad guys in a blaze of glory, vanquishing the evildoers, that sort of thing."

I tilted my head outside. "People seem nervous about Samara's presence."

"Asari admire justicars," Anaya said. "But we also know that they kill without mercy when they find corruption. And justicars never leave asari space. Why is she here? I doubt it's to investigate the murder of some corrupt volus."

Fair point. I leaned towards the detective. "So what do you think of Samara herself?"

"She's been a justicar longer than three of your life spans," Anaya said. "Whoever she was before she swore that oath, that person is dead."

I kinda felt sorry for Anaya. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, if she ignored her superiors, they could raise all sorts of hell, never mind that their orders were stupid at best and suicidal at worst. On the other hand, if she obeyed her superiors, she'd be going up against someone who had likely been consumed by the wacky code she swore ages ago and had more decades of combat experience. No wonder she was so eager to help me.

Speaking of which, it was time to get moving. "I have to go," I said, getting to my feet.

"Good luck," Anaya offered.

"Isn't the Illusive Man just a little worried about having me recruit a justicar?" I asked aloud as we left the station.

Miranda shrugged. "Her knowledge and skills would be a valuable asset to this mission."

"And what happens when she decides to do something about Cerberus's reputation?" I prodded. "Or decides to seek justice for the lives that were affected?"

She didn't have an answer to that. No one did, though I did catch Jacob shake his head.

"You know, this mission takes me back," Zaeed said.

Someone groaned. It seemed like _every _mission took him back. And he always liked reminiscing about the good old days. Though I had to admit, the man did know how to spin a yarn.

"I knew this girl once," Zaeed began, a wistful look spreading over his face—creepiest thing I'd seen in... aw, hell, in the last day or so. I really needed to get a life. "Asari. Good head on her shoulders. Could rip through solid plate metal with her biotics like they were paper. Always managed to kill her targets without collateral damage—even when using shotguns. And the sex was fantastic."

"Sounds impressive," I said.

"Yeah," Zaeed nodded. "We had this whole thing going—'till she sold me out to the Blood Pack. Put a sour note on the relationship."

"Ooh," I winced. "That sucks."

"Yeah," Zaeed nodded. "On the bright side, I learned how to interrogate krogan. Ya see, the trick is to get a knife into their head-plates. Angle it the right way, and you can pull that plate right off his head. It's the best way to get a krogan to talk, see? The threat of it drives 'em mad."

"Really?" Grunt asked, clearly fascinated. Guess Okeer missed one or two things in his imprinting.

"Sure. Might not work with you, kid, since your plates are still growing. If they were fully developed, I'd—bend down for a sec. Yeah, I'd jam the blade in right here, see, and—"

"Sorry to butt in," I interrupted, "but we're at the crime scene."

Everyone pulled out their weapons as soon as we crossed the police 'tape' of laser beams. All the talk between dangerous backstabbing asari, justicars who killed on a whim and Eclipse mercs who dealt drugs, sold tech, smuggled crooks (and killed on a whim) made us a little jumpy. I even scrounged for loot with a haste that I found unusual.

We were just climbing a small set of stairs when we heard someone.

"Get the rest of Bravo squad prepped," a female voice ordered. "Alpha squad went after that justicar 20 minutes ago and they've gone dark."

It sounded like they were right around the corner and down a corridor. I quickly cloaked and took a step out into the corridor. Sure enough, there were a bunch of mechs and two asari. Miranda dealt a ton of damage to one of the asari's barriers. Following her lead, I lined up a shot, tracking her as she moved, and fired a single round right into her head.

"It's a human!" the surviving asari cried out.

It has a brain.

"Open fire!"

Aw, crap.

Mordin was already firing off some plasma to blast the armour off of one of the mechs. Thane did the same with another using his biotics. Garrus and Kasumi ganged up on one of the vulnerable mechs with twin EMPs. Grunt and Zaeed, on the other hand, chose to finish their foe off with concussive rounds.

We ducked back behind cover and waited until everyone was ready for the next assault (and the mechs were a lot closer). Then we popped out and did various nasty things to their armour. Jack let loose a wave of biotics that knocked all the mechs over, Jacob lifted them up in the air and Miranda detonated the levitation field with her biotics. It occurred to me that Jack and the Cerberus representatives had worked together to take down the mechs. It also occurred to me that I would be wise to keep my big mouth shut.

The only survivor was the asari, who was hiding behind a column. I drew her out by simply stepping out into the open and cloaking when she took the bait. While she gawked at my magical disappearance, the squad unleashed everything they had at her, shredding her to bits.

There was another door just beyond the mercs and mechs, surrounded by more police tape. We opened it just in time to see an asari Eclipse merc flying through the air and crashing into the wall with bone-crunching force. As she slumped to the ground, we traced the merc's flight back to an office above us. One of the windows was broken. Through a window, we could see another merc back up nervously.

"Those were my best troops," someone—presumably the merc—cried out in disbelief.

I guess we just received confirmation of what had happened to 'Alpha squad.' Which meant Samara might be nearby.

"Tell me what I want to know," a second voice replied calmly, "and I will be gone from here. "Where did you send her?"

Okay, make that probably nearby.

"You think I'd betray her?" the merc burst out. "She would hurt me in ways you can't imagine."

"The name of the ship," the second voice said. "Your life hangs on the answer, Lieutenant."

"You can kill me, but one of us will take you down, Justicar," the merc snarled, confirming my suspicions.

There was a pause.

The merc burst out of the window in a cloud of shards. We watched as she plummeted through the air, crashed through a bunch of crates and bounced off the floor. Twice. An asari, dressed in an unusual outfit, levitated down using her biotics and gently landed on the ground. She walked over to the merc in a relaxed manner before raising one foot up and lowering it. I couldn't quite tell, as one of the fallen crates was blocking my view, but it looked like Samara had placed a foot on the merc to hold her down.

"What was the name of the ship she left on?" she repeated.

"Go to hell." The defiant response sounded forced, like it was a struggle to get the words out, and I suddenly realized just where Samara's foot was situated.

Samara considered that for a moment, then bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Find peace in the embrace of the goddess," she told her. Then she swivelled, transferring her body weight onto her right foot and snapping the merc's neck.

We walked over to her, gradually spreading out as we did. Samara noticed our approach and took a few steps towards us. I noticed several things about her. She wore a gold torc around her throat and a set of red semi-circular plates that curved around her eyebrows and eyes. Her hardsuit was black, with several red plates of overlapping sections like scales or some medieval armour. It also had a large slit that extended from her neck halfway down her chest, showing quite a bit of cleavage. Somehow, I had the feeling it wasn't intended to turn someone on. Rather, it probably was an expression of their power and authority. Something like "Hey, I'm so tough, and my Code lets me do so much, I'm above your petty hormones." Still, I made a mental note to be very careful where my eyes wandered. I didn't think Samara would let me off with a simple slap of indignation. If I was lucky, she'd probably just kill me. If I was unlucky, she might do something with her biotics and my... little guys.

"My name is Samara, a servant of the Justicar Code," she greeted us politely. "My quarrel is with these Eclipse sisters, but I see eleven well-armed people before me. **(4)** Are we friend? Or foe?"

"Depends," I pointed to the dead merc. "That merc was wounded and helpless. Do you just kill anyone who won't help you?"

"If my cause is important enough, yes," she said calmly. "Are you different?"

"I've killed enemies," I replied, "but always with good reason."

"I answer to a code that is clearly defined," she returned. "If my actions are true to that code, I am just. If they are not, I am unjust. I don't pretend it is a simple matter, or that it seems right to everyone. But I sleep well at night, and that is more than most can say."

So she can do whatever she wants as long as some obscure code says it's okay, but she's not about to go all preachy and ram it down our throats any time soon. How comforting.

"How may I be of service to you?" she asked.

Right. Business. "I need you to help me take down the Collectors," I replied.

That caught her attention. "The Collectors are a worthy foe; I would relish testing myself against them," she admitted. "But I seek an incredibly dangerous fugitive. I cornered her here, but the Eclipse sisters smuggled her off-world. I must find the name of the ship she left on before the trail goes cold."

"I wish you were willing to go with the human, Justicar. I've been ordered to take you into custody if you won't leave. "

It was Detective Anaya. Guess her bosses got tired of all the whining from less-than-honest civvies and wanted the problem resolved. Now.

"You risk a great deal by following your orders, Detective," Samara said.

Uh oh.

"Fortunately, I will not have to resist."

Phew.

"My code obligates me to cooperate with you for one day. After that, I must return to my investigation."

Uh oh.

Anaya shook her head unhappily. "I won't be able to release you that soon."

"You won't be able to stop me," Samara returned.

Aw, crap. "So let me get this straight," I started. "You're willing to go along with getting detained for a day."

"But after that time has passed, you'll fight your way out of custody, killing anyone in your way," Miranda finished.

"I am afraid so," Samara nodded.

Oh for crying out loud. "There must be some way we can all get what we need," I mused.

Surprisingly, it was Samara who spoke up. "I see a way. While I am in custody, you can find the name of that ship. Do that and I will join you. Then the Code will be satisfied."

"A moment ago, you refused to give up your investigation," I frowned. "But now you'll swear to follow me?"

Samara bowed her head. "If I stay, I will be compelled to kill many innocents to escape incarceration."

"Like me," Anaya piped up.

"I may be killed—and my quarry would be free to continue murdering. If I come with you and survive your mission, I can resume my investigation. To do that, I need the ship's name to track her to her next hiding place. It is a simple choice."

"Makes sense," Garrus nodded.

True. But it was surprisingly pragmatic and down-to-earth for a zealot. Maybe there was more to this justicar than her initial actions led me to believe.

"This Justicar Code seems quite strict," I said.

"It may seem so to you," Samara replied, "but this is my oath. The expedient path may be fast and simple; that does not make it the right path."

True enough. "What else can you tell me about the justicars?" I asked.

"We are individuals who have forsworn family, children and worldly possessions aside from some weapons and armour," Samara said. "We travel asari space righting wrongs, as defined by the ancient code we have each memorized."

"Illium may be dominated by asari," I pointed out, "but it isn't in asari space."

"My quarry fled to this place," Samara replied. "I am sworn to hunt her down and I will follow anywhere she goes. It is rare for a justicar to leave asari space," she conceded, "but I must follow my oath. If I suffer for it, I will accept that."

"Well let's see about helping you with your quarry," I said. "Do you have any leads?"

Apparently she did. "The volus merchant, Pitne For, is tied to this. Eclipse mercs are preparing to kill him."

Really. How very interesting.

"Get the truth out of him," Samara urged. "He may know a way into the Eclipse base."

Anaya walked over to Samara uneasily. "Well, I've got to get back to my station," she said slowly. "And I guess I've got to take you with me."

Samara nodded to Anaya and followed her out. She walked with a calm, serene confidence—in contrast with Anaya, who walked as if she was standing next to a ticking time bomb. Which, I suppose, she was.

So was I, come to think of it. Just twenty hours to avert certain havoc and destruction.

No pressure.

* * *

><p>Before starting my little investigation, I thought I'd pop in and see how Anaya was doing. As it turned out, she was doing quite well, considering there was a justicar sitting on a ledge behind her in a lotus-style meditative pose.<p>

Anaya looked up at me wearily. "Please don't start trouble about my prisoner," she sighed before I could open my mouth. "Trust me; I'd release her right now if I could.

"It's a great honour to have a justicar here," she added dryly, "but I could do without the honour of having her kill me."

"I'd like to avoid killing you, Detective," Samara said sincerely. "Unfortunately, the moment my code dictates I must, I will. There is only the Code."

Anaya shook her head. "She says this kind of thing like she's talking about what to have for dinner."

"You're not gonna lock her up?" I asked.

Samara answered first: "Any attempt to put me in a passive restraint system will be viewed as a hostile action, and I will be forced to attack."

The other cops around tensed up. Anaya just looked at me. "Yeah, that," she nodded.

"And here I thought all your cells were full," Garrus said.

Anaya shot him a look. "Ex-cop?"

"Good eye," Garrus confirmed.

"Next vacation season isn't for a couple weeks," Anaya replied. "Then we'll be busy. You know how it is: tourists drunk off their ass or blitzed out of their mind on red sand."

"Or the locals who are doing the same," Garrus commiserated. "Just looking for an excuse."

"Don't remind me," Anaya groaned. "I still remember this one time, two decades ago. There..." She paused and looked behind her, belatedly remembering the justicar who was not locked up and was well within hearing range.

"I am not compelled to exact retribution," Samara assured her. "You have not provided sufficient information to pull me away from my present hunt. Besides, I was young once, too."

I tried picturing a young Samara painting the town red, stumbling from bar to bar screaming something like "I'm so wasted, I'm so wasted!" Nope. Couldn't see it. "Okay," I said brightly. "Now that we've got that settled, it's time we got going. Merchants to grill, names to find, that sort of thing."

"Yes," Anaya nodded. "Please do that."

With that little side-trip taken care of, we went to hunt down Pitne For. He hadn't gone very far.

"_*hiss*_ Hello again, Earth-clan," he said brightly. "_*hiss*_ Did you have a chance to speak to the detective?"

"Why are the mercs after you?" I asked.

"_*hiss*_ I know nothing about any mercs, Earth-clan. _*hiss*_ I'm merely an innocent merchant trying to make his way in life."

"The Eclipse are out for your blood," I told him. "I need your help to break into their base. Shouldn't we work together?"

"_*hiss*_ Yes! You're right, Earth-clan—I'm desperate. _*hiss*_ I've got angry mercs after me. And now this asari justicar... let's talk."

"Go on," I motioned.

"_*hiss*_I smuggled a chemical onto Illium that boosts biotic powers in combat. _*hiss* _It also is toxic. _*hiss*_ I may have, um, _*hiss*_ forgotten to mention that to the Eclipse. _*hiss*_ So they are perturbed and want to kill me."

I could see how they might come to that decision. "Tell me about this chemical you brought in," I prompted.

"_*hiss*_ It's called Minagen X3, and it's very, _*hiss*_ very... _*hiss*_ um, illegal," Pitne For replied. "_*hiss* *hiss*_ Anyone with biotic powers who is exposed to it becomes more powerful. _*hiss*_ The higher your exposure, the more powerful you get. _*hiss*_ But too much of it, you die. _*hiss*_ That's the part that the Eclipse found disagreeable."

Yes. Deaths are ever so bad for business. "You've been in the Eclipse base," I said. "What do you remember?"

"_*hiss*_ It's a series of docking bays where the Eclipse keep their private ships," Pitne For revealed. "_*hiss*_ They're well-armed, and they've got mechs."

Of course they do.

"_*hiss* _And they're all murderers. _*hiss*_ Every one of them kills someone as part of their initiation."

Of course they did.

"That bad, huh?" I grinned. "It sounds like your actions finally caught up with you."

I'll say this for Pitne For; he was honest to a fault when he knew there was no point or profit in sticking to a lie. "_*hiss*_ True and true," he admitted. "_*hiss*_ But I haven't survived as a merchant this long without being able to tell when there's a deal in the making—_*hiss*_ you want something, don't you?"

"The Eclipse recently smuggled somebody off-world," I told him. "I need the name of the ship she left on."

"I don't know about their people-smuggling operations," Pitne For said. "They must keep records in their base."

"Which you have access to," I guessed.

"_*hiss*_ I do have a pass card they issued me to bring my goods in," he nodded. "_*hiss*_ Well, I had to return that one, _*hiss*_ but I happened to make a copy." He dug it out of a pocket. "_*hiss*_ Take it. _*hiss*_ But remember what I said earlier—_*hiss*_ each Eclipse sister commits a murder to earn her uniform. _*hiss*_ They are _all_ dangerous."

* * *

><p>Pitne For's pass card opened up an elevator, which was right next to the police station. That took us to the Eclipse base, which overlooked said police station. Eclipse had a stronger hold over the local area than I'd thought. No wonder none of the cops wanted to talk about it.<p>

As soon as the doors opened, we saw a LOKI mech crouched down. We reduced it to scrap metal while it was still powering up. Then we opened a nearby door…

…and ducked as the asari in the loading bay hurled a container at us. Her aim was off, as it shattered against the wall next to the door. A red cloud started billowing from the container. It didn't look very healthy. As Miranda sent a biotic explosion reverberating against the asari's barriers, I scanned it with my hardsuit sensors and uploaded the data to EDI for analysis. The results came back almost immediately.

"Shepard, my scans confirm that the chemical compound will boost biotics," EDI reported. "However, concentrated exposure will cause severe tissue damage. I recommend limited exposure."

Fine by me. Charging into a room of enemies-now tallying four asari and a couple mechs—wasn't a move conducive to long-term survival. Neither was charging into a room full of toxic chemicals. I'd like to keep my tissues intact, thank you very much.

"You heard EDI," I said, torching the asari who'd first attacked us. "Hold your breath."

"Boring," Grunt snorted, taking a chunk out of an asari's barriers with a concussive round. Thane drained the rest with a biotic attack of his own. Mordin and I tried to set her on fire. Unfortunately, only his plasma attack landed. So I finished her off with a shot from my sniper rifle.

Coincidentally, Garrus and Zaeed had also switched to their sniper rifles. Both of them fired concussive rounds at once, shattering their target's barriers and dealing a significant amount of damage. The asari was smart enough to duck, though.

Jacob, Jack and Tali were dealing with the third asari the old fashioned way: lots of gunfire. Not as flashy, but it was certainly forcing her barriers to soak up a steady amount of damage. It would only be a matter of time.

Speaking of which; the asari that Garrus and Zaeed had tried to deal with stood back up, barriers fully restored. Miranda was waiting for her, though, sending a bolt of biotics exploding against the barriers. My sniper rifle proved sufficient to finish her off. Thane eliminated the last asari a second later with his own sniper rifle.

We started to move to the next room, destroying a pair of LOKI mech along the way. Naturally a trio of Eclipse mercs barrelled in just as we were nearing the door. Asari, all of them. Looked pretty young, too. They squealed in joy when they got the first shot off, hammering shotgun rounds into our shields.

Then they squealed in horror as Miranda, Thane, Grunt, Garrus and Zaeed blasted through their barriers with a barrage of biotics and concussive rounds. They squealed again as Jacob and Jack yanked them up into the air. And they positively _shrieked _when Mordin and I lit them up.

The next room didn't have much in the way of loot, though Jacob's eyes lit up when he saw a shotgun lying on a table. "X-27c Scimitar Assault Shotgun," he admired, picking it up. "Doesn't quite hold up to the Eviscerator, but it's a nice addition to our arsenal nonethe—"

"Shh," Kasumi hissed. "You hear that?"

We all fell silent and pricked our ears.

"Oh Goddess!" someone was whimpering. "Oh Goddess, don't let them see me. If they do see me, don't let them kill me! What am I doing here?"

The voice was coming from a nearby room about halfway towards a flight of stairs leading up to the next room. I motioned for the squad to follow me into the room. Not much to see. Empty walls with a lot of display panels. A table. A submachine gun lying on the floor. Like I said, not much to see.

So I pretended to leave, keeping one eye on the table and the submachine gun. Sure enough, I saw a flicker of movement. We all whirled back and readied our weapons.

"Wait! Stop!"

A young asari jumped up, clad in an Eclipse hardsuit. "I didn't fire my weapon once!" she burst out. "I pretended to because the other Eclipse sisters were watching, but I didn't really shoot!"

I looked at my squad mates sceptically, but lowered my weapon about halfway.

"I'm not one of them!" she insisted. "I'm new! I thought being Elnora the mercenary would be cool… but I didn't know what they were really like!"

"And your name is?" I prompted.

"Um. Elnora. Sir."

Time to see if Pitne For was telling the truth or just repeating some old anecdote. "You may be new, Elnora, but you're clearly sporting Eclipse colours," I observed.

"Something you couldn't do unless you earned your place in Eclipse," Miranda chimed in.

"Which, in this case, means killing someone," I finished.

Elnora's eyes narrowed.

"You chose your side, Elnora," I told her, raising my weapon to firing position. "And you lost."

I was going to give her the chance to surrender. Honest. But I never got the chance.

"Screw that, bastard!" she cried out. "And screw you!"

The silly twit actually tried to pull a shotgun out from the small of her back, never mind that there were eleven fully armed and shielded enemies pointing weapons at her. To be fair, she did get the first shot off before we riddled her body full of holes.

It turned out there were some spare power cells and schematics for a biotic amp upgrade near the back of the room, so we did accomplish more than wiping out another merc and wasting some bullets. After scooping up the loot, we headed up the stairs and into a docking bay.

By this point, we were pretty much resigned to facing lots of hostile asari—I know I was—so we weren't too surprised to run into a pair of asari mercs. We focused on one of them, blew through her barriers, set her on fire and shot her. Leaving her corpse behind, which was quickly burning down to cinders, we cornered her behind a stack of crates. Slowly but surely, we wore down her defences each time she poked her head out. In the end, I think it was Garrus who got the kill shot.

We tried to move ahead, but were quickly forced to take cover when a half dozen asari—and a LOKI mech, but it was blasted to shrapnel within a matter of seconds—showed up. It wasn't the best cover, as there were several canisters of that Minagen X3 lying around, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Unless they're getting too close, concentrate on the senior mercs first," I called out. "Leave the newbies for later."

Following my lead, the squad started to take down the mercs one by one. Miranda and Thane alternated biotic attacks against their barriers; Garrus, Zaeed and Grunt rotated concussive rounds against barriers or hardsuits; Mordin, Jacob, Jack and I caused all sorts of havoc by setting asari on fire or lifting them helplessly into the air; and everyone else just fired their weapons in short bursts. That worked well at first.

Then one of the canisters got ruptured as a barbequed asari collapsed to the floor. Red smoke billowed out almost immediately. The canister was a fair ways away from us, so I figured we were fine.

Then I saw some of the squad glowing.

That glow was characteristic of biotics generating mass effect fields. I'd seen it countless times before. Heck, I saw Miranda and Jack glowing during our last battle—the one that started as soon as we popped out of the elevator.

But when non-biotics like Garrus and Kasumi start glowing, you know there's a problem.

"Garrus? Kasumi?" I hollered. "You two are glowing. How're you holding up?"

"Nothing to worry about," Garrus assured me, firing a concussive round at another asari merc.

"Feeling some tingling all over my body, but that's about it," Kasumi added. "Though the bad guys sure are getting bendy."

"What?" I frowned.

"Ooh, look at all the little lights from their pretty little guns," Kasumi said happily, tossing a flashbang grenade at some of the mercs. "Shining like little angels."

Miranda and I exchanged a look. "Shepard, I had a small exposure earlier," she said. "Once you move away from the gas, the effects wear off within a minute."

"Hate to say it, but the cheerleader's right," Jack chimed in. "She'll be fine."

"Okay," I said loudly. "Kasumi, why don't you sit down right over here, yes that's good, and put away your gun. You can start shooting again once the little angels go away."

After making sure Kasumi wasn't going to be a danger to herself—or the rest of us—I turned back to the battlefield. Now that I was paying attention, the biotics in the squad closest to the gas did seem to have a slight boost. Thankfully, none of them were willing to deliberately get high for a power boost. Except for Jack, but it wasn't as if she needed extra power—not to mention that Zaeed conveniently was in her way every time she tried to move forward. I later learned that Miranda and Garrus had arranged this tactic to prevent Jack from getting out of hand, and that Zaeed had been selected because he was sneaky enough to pull it off. At the time, I was simply reassured that no one on my squad was going to croak any time soon.

By the time I returned my attention to the battlefield, there were only two asari left, one of whom barely had any barriers left. I was debating whether someone should launch some biotics or something when a spray of bullets collapsed the barriers. I immediately sent a bolt of plasma fire her way. "Mordin, once the fires die down, finish her off," I ordered as the asari I targeted started slapping madly away. "Everyone else, concentrate fire on the last asari."

Mordin nodded decisively. He waited until she'd slapped the last flames up, then called out towards her. "Question: flammable or inflammable?"

The asari looked at him blankly.

Mordin shrugged. "Forget which," he explained. "Doesn't matter."

Then he set her on fire.

The last asari was barely hanging on by that point, desperately scrambling to get away from us. We all tried taking shots at her, but she would always duck or dodge at the last second. In the end, it was Tali's drone, Chikitta, who took her down with a zap and a cheerful chirp. Then we liberated some more credits from a nearby terminal and headed up another flight of stairs to the next docking bay.

"Hostiles detected."

That was the last thing the LOKI mech got to say before my plasma flames melted its armour off, Miranda's EMP fried its circuits and a couple shots from Kasumi blew it to smithereens. Unfortunately, there were a couple more of them near the back of the docking bay. More importantly, there were also several asari mercs in the area.

A second after we realized that, Thane used his biotics to collapse the barriers of the closest asari, freeing the way for Mordin's plasma to burn its way through her body. Grunt finished her off with a concussive round while Garrus and Zaeed launched concussive rounds of their own at another asari, crippling her barriers. Jacob lifted her up in the air to remove her from the battlefield, which gave Miranda a perfect line of sight to fire a biotic barrage at another asari. I aimed my omni-tool to fire another plasma round, realized she still had enough barriers to block it, and switched targets to torch the levitating asari.

I paused for a moment to see how things were progressing. None of us were seriously injured, unconscious or worse—though several of us had taken quite a bit of damage to our shields. We still had one asari running around with a sliver of barriers protecting her and two LOKI mechs. All in all, we were in pretty good shape.

Meanwhile, the squad's gunfire had eliminated the last of the asari's shields. Jack promptly yanked her up in the air. Mordin patiently waited until the asari was in his sights—which involved her bouncing off the roof—before igniting a ball of plasma in her face. I sent my own plasma to damage one of the mechs while, out of the corner of my eye, Thane used his biotics again to detonate Jack's biotic field and shred the asari to gooey bits. Kasumi was quick to overload the mech I targeted with an EMP, causing it to blow up. By a stroke of luck, the explosion took out the last mech as well.

After the usual amount of looting, we went up yet another flight of stairs to yet another docking bay. This one had a small entrance area leading into a much larger bay, one with stairs at either end leading to and from a platform. Between the platforms lay a wide expanse of space cluttered with crates. The docking bay also offered a nice view of the cityscape, so we could clearly see a gunship flying around. Hopefully the pilot was less attentive than the pair of asari who tried to spoil our day. Unfortunately, they came one at a time, which allowed us to smash through their barriers with biotics and concussive rounds and burn them to a crisp with superheated plasma.

It was possible that we were starting to develop an SOP for dealing with hostile biotics. Sure, some new wrinkle would inevitably come along to spoil my day, but I decided to enjoy these developments while they lasted.

Taking a short detour to swipe some refined platinum, we got back into the swing of things. An Eclipse heavy weapons trooper was guarding the closest platform, no doubt trusting her superior vantage point—and the LOKI mech—to protect her. Unfortunately, neither of them counted on me sending Team Two straight towards them while my team stayed behind to fire off plasma rounds and EMPs. This wasn't entirely cowardice on my part—it's really hard to aim when you're running, after all. At least, that's what I decided to say if anybody asked. Anyway, our barrage quickly wore down the defences of the Eclipse merc and the mech, just in time for Team Two to arrive.

"Sitrep, Garrus," I called out as I led Team One to join the others.

"More mercs entering from the far side of the docking bay," he reported. "Gunship's not making any hostile moves towards us."

"Good," I approved, reaching the top of the platform and taking a peek for myself. A fair number of asari, mixed with several mercs toting rocket launchers. I paused to cloak and snipe one of the latter. "New plan," I announced. "Snipers,stay here with me and take out the heavy weapons, then focus on targets of opportunity. "Miranda, take Team One down the left; Jacob, take Team Two down the right. You guys will tangle with any mercs who try to get close."

Using that strategy, Garrus, Zaeed, Thane and I snipedanyone who even looked like they wanted to let off a rocket. In between headshots, I was able to see how the other teams were doing. They seemed to be doing well: focusing on one merc at a time, stripping her defences then taking her down hard.

"Shepard," Garrus said, "how about some of us turn our sniper rifles to back up the teams? We don't need four rifles to cover the far entrance anymore."

I looked at Garrus, then Zaeed. You should've seen the hopeful looks on their faces. Like a couple kids asking if they could have second helpings of dessert. "You and Zaeed go ahead and have some fun," I sighed. "I can tell you guys want to."

"Damn straight," Zaeed grinned, before raising his sniper rifle to his scope and firing a concussive round right through an asari's barriers—and her head.

"Impressive," Garrus complimented before doing the same to another merc.

Thane and I kept a close eye for any newcomers—heavy weapons or otherwise—but there was only one more merc who trotted in. I let Thane get her. A minute later, we were in the clear.

The docking bay proved to have little in the way of loot, so I was hoping the next room would have better pickings. I was not disappointed. Some power cells, some medi-gel and a _very _interesting audio file from Elnora, the newbie merc who protested a bit too much:

"_Well, it's official—little baby Elnora is finally a full-fledged Eclipse merc! I earned my uniform last night when I killed that ridiculous volus. Up close, exploding rounds. Blew the little bastard's suit wide open! Hah! I can't wait to see some real action! Next time I go home, my friends are going to be _so_ jealous!"_

Of all the reasons to go risk your ass—even one with a thousand-year lifespan—and get your hands dirty: to look cool in front of your friends_._ Idiot.

"So Elnora was the killer," Garrus said. "Good thing we took her out."

"Detective Anaya would be interested in this," Miranda pointed out.

"Already on it," I nodded. A beep indicated that the audio file had been successfully uploaded. "Let's get moving."

We headed down a hallway into another small docking bay, which connected to a catwalk via a bridge. There were three LOKI mechs lurking around, but we blew through them without a hitch.

Naturally, that gunship we'd spotted earlier loomed into view as we were halfway across the bridge. This time, it was definitely hostile. At least, if the bullets it was spitting out were any indication.

"Get down!" Garrus and I yelled in unison. Well, not really: Garrus beat me by a nanosecond. Made sense, I suppose: he probably had some bad associations with gunships.

Cloaking to buy myself a few extra seconds, I pulled out the Collector particle beam gun from my back. I stood there and watched as yellow energy streamed out from the weapon and lanced towards the gunship. Slowly but steadily, it chewed away at the gunship's armour. A bit too slow, given the circumstances. Especially since I had to expose myself to maintain a target lock.

The back of my neck suddenly tingled. _Hard_.

I ducked back, but not before the gunship's machine guns tore right through my shields and hit my hardsuit. Even though none of the bullets actually penetrated, the impacts really hurt.

It didn't help that several of the crates we were hiding behind couldn't stand up to the gunship's fire. Crate after crate splintered or collapsed, forcing squad mates to run to the docking bay's entrance. Looking around, I saw that Miranda, Thane and Mordin were the only ones left.

Perfect.

"Before you guys run and join the others, hit that gunship with your best shot," I yelled over the roar of the gunship's weapons. "Biotics, plasma, foul language—whatever. Well, not the foul language, but you get the idea."

They nodded their understanding. One by one, they popped up, launched their attack and ran like hell. Naturally I was the last one to retreat—for my rep, you understand.

As I sprinted back into the safety of the hallway, I had to sidestep around Miranda, who had returned just long enough to hurl some biotics at the gunship. She retreated a second later, just as Mordin was darting out. Clearly, someone had given orders to stagger our attacks so we could lay on a sustained barrage without tripping over each other. **(5)**

After a couple minutes, the gunship introduced a new wrinkle. Without warning, it swooped into the docking bay and came to a stop. It hovered near the entrance, but behind a set of crates so we couldn't get a clear shot. Curious to see what it was up to, I cloaked and took a few steps out to get a good look.

Aw, crap.

"The gunship's dropping FENRIS mechs!" I warned, running back to join the others.

Sure enough, three FENRIS mechs came trotting towards us. Thanks to my alert, though, we had biotics, plasma and EMPs charged up and waiting for them.

"All right," Garrus panted once the last mech was destroyed—that bad boy had given him a good jolt before it went boom. "Clearly we'll have to speed things up."

"Agreed," I groaned. "We'll stick with the same plan, but I want you, Zaeed and Grunt to join us."

Garrus figured out what I was talking about. "Extra firepower."

"Against that gunship, every little bit helps," I confirmed.

"Oh good," Grunt grinned.

We had to go through a little song-and-dance—well, more like a you-go, are-you-sure, just-go-for-crying-out-loud—but we eventually settled into a new rhythm. Miranda and Grunt went first, followed by Garrus and Mordin, then Thane and Zaeed. My plasma rounds seemed to recharge a bit faster, so I wound up popping out whenever it was ready, regardless of which pair was up to flirt with who-knows-how-many-tonnes of flying death.

The gunship managed to drop off another trio of FENRIS mechs, but they met the same fate as their cousins. Same with the gunship—only with a larger explosion.

After that, we scrounged for power cells, medi-gel and thermal clips. Then we went to the docking bay exit. It was sealed, but I managed to bypass the locking mechanism.

We found ourselves in a small room full of terminals. One of them had an open extranet browser to an online banking site. Guess someone was completing some transactions or something. I did a transaction of my own.

There was also a datapad lying on a table. I picked it up and skimmed through it.

"Well?" Jacob prompted.

"It's a shipping manifest," I told the squad. "Looks like Pitne For sold 2000 units of Minagen X3 to the Eclipse... as well as 600 units of red sand."

We all agreed that Detective Anaya would also be interested in Pitne For's less-than-legal activities, so I pocketed the datapad before looking for the exit. Which was right behind me, of course.

The door led us down a short corridor, with an automated food kiosk, a volus and a door at the far end. I was curious as to what the volus was doing in the middle of an Eclipse base, so, with a firm grip on my weapon, I went to investigate.

He must have heard me, because he turned around—swaying from side to side like he'd taken a few too many drinks—took a few steps forward...

...and stumbled right into me.

He staggered back, waving his stubby arms to regain his balance before he flopped over. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him, deciding to let him have the first word. Generous of me, I know.

"_*hiss* _I am a biotic god!" he proclaimed. To my surprise, biotic energy briefly flared around his arms.

What the hell?

"I think things—_*hiss* _and they happen!"

Uh huh.

"Fear me, lesser creatures, for I am biotics made flesh!"

Oookaaaaay...

While this volus was doing a bit of drunken—or drugged up—grandstanding, we all took a step back, lest the biotic god trip over our feet or something.

"Right..." I finally said. "Listen, I think you might need a little help."

"_*hiss* You _need help!" the volus retorted. "_*hiss* _You stand before the mightiest biotic _ever_."

The universe was laughing at me. Again.

"Did someone give you... pharmaceuticals?" Garrus cautiously asked.

"_*hiss* _Yes, the asari injecting so many drugs into me was terrifying," the volus replied. "_*hiss* _But then I, Niftu Cal, began to smell my greatness!"

Too. Much. Information. I rubbed my forehead to head off the migraine that was threatening to bubble to the surface.

"_*hiss*_ They may laugh when I fall over," Niftu Cal continued, "_*hiss* _but they don't know what I know in my head—_*hiss* _that I know that I am amazingly powerful. Fear me!"

That last part was delivered as a challenge. To Grunt. He looked down at the volus blankly, then turned to me and shook his head in confusion.

"Are you part of Pitne For's trade group?" I asked.

"_*hiss*_ When I was mortal, I worked for Pitne For," Niftu Cal nodded. "_*hiss* _Poor fool is probably terrified that I have not returned."

"He didn't say anything about you going missing," Jack corrected. "Didn't want to get stuck here."

"His kind likes money more than clan," Grunt agreed.

"Bah! _*hiss*_ I will wreak a just revenge upon his people," Niftu Cal ranted. "_*hiss*_ But first... _*hiss*_ the leader of these mercenaries is in the next room."

Good to know.

"_*hiss*_ I shall toss Wasea about like a rag doll!"

Oh boy.

"Shepard," Garrus groaned, "this guy couldn't tie his bootlaces in his current condition, much less fight."

"Lessened awareness and cognitive abilities," Mordin nodded. "Odds of survival low."

"Not to mention that having this incapacitated volus running around our battlefield could compromise us," Miranda frowned.

Niftu Cal was undaunted by my squad's observations. "_*hiss*_ I will tear her apart! _*hiss* _My biotics are unstoppable!"

"Or Wasea will tear _you_ apart," I replied. "Take a nap—you'll feel better."

"_*hiss*_ Are you mad?" Niftu Cal laughed. "_*hiss* _I'm unstoppable! _*hiss* _Feasting on her biotic-rich blood will be the last step of my ascension to godhood!"

To my horror, he took a step towards the room where Wasea, the merc leader, was supposedly in. I reached out to grab him before he could do something stupid. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good grip. Instead of grabbing him, I, um, kind of upset his balance. As I watched, he flopped face-first on the ground with a thud.

He managed to pick himself up, though. I braced myself for some divine outrage.

"_*hiss*_ But... _*hiss* _great wind!" Niftu Cal babbled. "_*hiss* _Biotic god! _*hiss* _I'm... I... what was I saying?" _*hiss* _I'm... tired," he continued, before I could reply. "_*hiss*_ You... _*hiss* _may be right."

Oh _thank you_!

He started to stumble in a serpentine fashion towards the entrance we had just come from. "_*hiss* _Yes, I'm tired... _*hiss* _I'll nap. _*hiss* _Destroy the universe later..."

"Sleep well, you deluded jackass," Zaeed snorted.

"And dream of bulbous women," Thane solemnly added.

...

"Nicely done, Shepard," Tali hastily said.

* * *

><p>The door that the would-be biotic god was trying to go through led down a corridor—which had some more medi-gel, thank you very much—to a large cargo bay arranged in two split levels. Support columns were arranged at regular intervals, with stacks of crates—and more canisters of Minagen X3, I noted uneasily—scattered around them. We saw an asari on the upper level standing behind a desk, sipping from a glass while reading a datapad. She wasn't wearing the usual Eclipse uniform, but it was safe to assume that this was the infamous Captain Wasea.<p>

"Everything's gone to hell since we smuggled that _filthy_ creature off-world," she sighed in an affected tone. "First a justicar shows up, now you."

She casually dropped the datapad on the desk and strolled around it. "At least I can take pleasure in turning your head into a _pulpy mass_!"

The last part was shouted at us as she summoned her biotics and hurled one of the Minagen X3 canisters at us. We all jumped out of the way, wincing as it shattered and released its contents.

It was probably a testament to Wasea's power that our first sally of biotics and concussive rounds only reduced her barriers to about 50%—if my sensor readings were accurate, that is. With such delightful news, they probably were. We all scattered trying to find some shelter to share.

"If you're helping the justicar, you're deep into something terrifying," Wasea yelled out, flinging another canister. Her aim fell a bit short, though. All that accomplished was sending up another red cloud, just as Eclipse reinforcements started to show up. They were probably counting on all the Minagen X3 clouds to block our lines of sight so we couldn't shoot them.

There were two little problems with that plan. One: our sensors were working fine. Two: biotics, plasma fire and concussive rounds don't necessarily need pinpoint accuracy to unleash a world of hurt.

One of the mercs shrieked in pain and horror as her barriers were shredded by Miranda's biotic volley, just before my fireball roasted her. Garrus finished her off, as the red haze had lifted just long enough for him to get a clear shot, before swivelling on the spot and blasting through another merc's barriers with a concussive round. Mordin and Zaeed immediately attacked her.

"I'll enjoy killing you, the volus, the detective—anyone who's gotten in my way!" Wasea laughed, lifting more Minagen X3 canisters and throwing them around. It definitely obscured the battlefield, but so far we were managing to cope.

Then I noticed the little alert in my HUD. The one marked "Toxicity Warning."

It was maxed out. Which might explain why I was feeling tingly.

I decided to back up before I started seeing shiny angels. As I retreated, I noticed that the mercs were gone. They had retreated to the upper level. As I watched, more canisters were sent flying through the air to explode, creating a wall of smoke between us and the mercs.

Ah. So _that _was the plan. If we wanted to chase after the mercs, we would have to fight our way through the Minagen X3. If the red clouds didn't make us stumble blindly into a killing zone, it would seep into our pores and poison us.

Fortunately, we—or I—had one more trick up our sleeves.

"Guys," I warned. "Let's advance a bit closer. Cut off their escape from this door. But not too close."

Everyone followed my orders. "Now what?" Miranda asked.

"Now we need somebody to sneak up and act as a spotter for everyone else," I replied. "Any volunteers?"

Everyone looked at me. Figures.

"Sync your sensor feeds with my HUD," I sighed. "I expect a lot of gratitude when this is all over."

"Thanks for sticking your neck out," Kasumi promptly said.

"Cheeky," I scowled, wishing I could pass that comment off as a residual effect from her earlier Minagen X3 exposure. Sadly, it was all her, as proven by the innocent smile she sent my way.

Giving her one last glare, I cloaked and ran forward through the smoke. I managed to take a good look before my cloak gave out. Thankfully, there was a nearby crate to hide behind, so I didn't suffer too much. An asari with a heavy weapons trooper on the left. Another asari hanging around Wasea on the right. Wasea's barriers had been worn down, but she hadn't bothered to raise them again. Maybe she was afraid that her barriers might not react well with all the Minagen X3 floating around—though she sure wasn't afraid to fling biotic energy at me.

I quickly selected targets for the squad and gave the signal. Garrus and Zaeed immediately responded with an EMP and concussive round, respectively. This suddenly made the asari and heavy weapons team vulnerable to Mordin, who managed to set both of them on fire with the same well-aimed plasma round. I quickly followed that up with some fire of my own, which swiftly finished them off.

Miranda detonated the barriers of the asari covering Wasea's back, clearing the way for Jack to lift her up in the air. Grunt pegged her with a concussive round a second later, which sent her flying into the far wall with the force of a rocket.

Wasea, seeing how things were progressing and quickly deducing who was to blame, threw another canister of Minagen X3 at me. I tried to wait until my squad had recharged their batteries—proverbial or otherwise—but was ultimately forced to retreat.

"I see Wasea is the only one left," Miranda observed when I got back. She must have been monitoring my sensor feeds for more than just targeting data. "Maybe Team One should join you on the next attack."

"Press them and put her on the defensive," I nodded.

"Precisely."

Seemed like a good plan. And it was—especially since a couple asari had joined her while we were debating our next move. We quickly dropped them with a one-two punch of biotics and plasma fire. Unfortunately, another pair of asari showed up a second later. With another merc toting a rocket launcher.

"Team Two," I called out over the comm, "keep the newcomers busy. Team One; if Wasea thinks we're gonna be distracted by her pals, she's about to be seriously disappointed."

Miranda and I immediately started blasting away at her armour. I found myself wondering what it was like to have red flames and blue biotics sizzling out of a thick opaque fog to hammer away at you. It wasn't quite the same to have shotgun blasts firing back in return, mostly because she kept missing. I fed continuous updates and targeting data to Team Two in between plasma blasts, so they could keep the other mercs busy.

And then it happened. Wasea stood up to hurl another Minagen X3 canister our way. The toxicity readings immediately spiked into the red zone. But Wasea waited a bit too long before ducking for cover, allowing Miranda's biotics to crack her armour wide open.

This was it. Yeah, the smart thing would have been to retreat. But we couldn't let this opportunity slide. Using the new red cloud for cover, I fired off some plasma. While she was slapping it off, Grunt shot her with a concussive round, knocking her somewhere onto the floor. My HUD indicated that the other mercs tried to move towards her, only to be driven back by Team Two. By then, my omni-tool had generated some more plasma, so I fired it off towards her. The clouds were starting to dissipate, revealing the merc leader rolling around, trying to smother the flames. Miranda created a miniature warp in the gravity fields in Wasea's vicinity, crushing her with every move she made. She had time to give one short cry of pain, just before I fired a shot from my sniper rifle into her skull.

Now that that was over, I could concentrate on the other mercs. One of the asari had been taken down while Team One was occupied, leaving only two more to go. The heavy weapons trooper took two concussive rounds to the head, dropping her like a rock. Engaging my cloak, I tracked the asari's movements, extrapolating her movements, and fired my sniper rifle again.

With that out of the way, we were free to search for loot, thermal clips and the information Samara was looking for—all while giving the dissipating toxic clouds a wide berth. It turned out the data we needed was on the datapad Wasea dropped on the desk earlier:

_There's a justicar here! Probably looking for the one we sent off on the AML Demeter. I was happy to see her go; she chilled me to the bone. I just hope this justicar doesn't mess up my operation._

Sometimes the answers are right in front of you.

* * *

><p>Niftu Cal had recovered from his psychedelic trip by the time we returned to the police station. He intercepted us—this time without mowing anyone over—and expressed his gratitude for our help. Pitne For was also in the neighbourhood, waiting outside the police station. He thanked us as well, claiming it would take Eclipse months to rebuild. I was in a bit of a rush to present my findings before Samara's Code told her to go ballistic, so I kept my chat with each of them short and hurried inside.<p>

"I've got the name of the ship," I told Samara, who was still perched in a meditative position behind Anaya. "Your fugitive left here two days ago on the AML Demeter."

"Shepard, you impress me," Samara said. **(6)** "You fulfilled your part of the bargain and I will fulfill mine."

She uncrossed her legs and gracefully lowered herself to the floor. "I am ready to leave immediately, if that will satisfy your superiors, Detective," she quietly announced.

"You're free to go, Justicar," Anaya nodded. "It has been an honour having you in my station."

Samara gave her a brief bow in return.

Of course, Anaya couldn't resist adding: "And it's nice you didn't kill me, too."

"The Normandy is docked near the main trading floor," I informed Samara. "I'll see you aboard."

Samara raised a hand. "I must be sworn to your service, so that I am never forced to choose between your orders and the Code."

I wasn't expecting that, but neither was I complaining. It would make my life a whole lot easier.

Her eyes flared with glowing energy for a moment before she kneeled before me and lowered her head.

Judging by the way Anaya immediately stood up, I figured I shouldn't say anything like "Kneel before Shepard." Heck, I probably shouldn't say anything at all.

"By the code, I will serve you, Shepard," Samara recited. "Your choices are my choices, your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code."

A burst of biotic energy exploded around her, enveloping her in a blaze of sizzling blue light. She stood up before me; eyes glowing and biotic energy dancing over her skin. I had to admit—that ritual might have been brief, but it had one heck of an impact.

"I never thought I'd see a justicar swear an oath like that," Anaya muttered in awe. **(7)**

"If you make me do anything extremely dishonourable, I may need to kill you when I am released from my oath," Samara informed me, promptly killing the mood.

"I can see that this is a very important act, Samara," I replied diplomatically. "Thank you."

"Truly, the life of a justicar can get lonely," Samara returned. "I am looking forward to serving with a company of honourable heroes."

I clamped down on my smart mouth before it could ask her who she was talking about. Hard.

"Shall we return to your ship?" Samara asked.

I shook my head. "In a moment. I need to speak to the detective." Walking over to Anaya, I handed her the first datapad I had found. "I have proof that Eclipse killed the volus merchant."

"Let's see what you've got there."

I tossed the datapad on her desk, giving it a spin so it would stop right in front of her. She read its contents, then shook her head. "Interesting," she said with regret, "but I can't verify it. It would be inadmissible."

Before I could even think of cursing, Samara cleared her throat. "I vouch for Shepard and any evidence he brings forward," she said.

Maybe having Samara tag along wouldn't be so bad after all. She could use her justicar credentials to bypass the usual red tape just like my Spectre status could. Anaya must have been thinking the same thing, judging by the hungry light that flashed in her eyes. Her face and voice, though, were utterly calm and professional. "I accept the judgement of the justicar," she declared with a straight face.

I nodded my thanks to Samara.

"Thanks, Shepard," Anaya said. "I wasn't sure about trusting a stranger—and a human, at that. But you came through. Never heard of this Elnora," she added, tapping the datapad. "Sounds like she was just starting her career. Good thing you cut it short."

"I do what I can," I replied modestly.

"Okay, enough with all the congratulations," Anaya said briskly. "I've still got a spiralling crime rate."

"And Pitne For's helping it along," I told her, handing her the second datapad. "I have proof that he smuggled in illegal drugs and weapons tech." **(8)**

Anaya quickly read the datapad. "I'll send in some officers to arrest him and his cohorts," she promised. "This is a big help, Shepard. I can't do much to thank you, but we do have a small discretionary bounty fund. Take this."

I took the creds with a nod of thanks, then gestured for the squad to depart. Anaya caught my eye before I took a step, though, so I stayed behind.

"Thanks for getting Samara out of my district," she said. "I can tell my granddaughters about meeting a justicar. And you've just upped my chances of living long enough to have grandkids. Be well. Value the justicar—I've never heard of one working with a human before."

Who says being a suicidal goody-two-shoes doesn't pay?

* * *

><p>"Welcome to the Normandy, Samara," Jacob formally greeted the justicar after we got back. "We've studied your profile extensively. With your skills, I think you'll be an excellent addition to our team."<p>

"Thank you," Samara said politely. "From an organization such as yours, that is high praise indeed."

"The truth, nothing more," Miranda replied. "We've seen your biotics at work."

"They are quite substantial," I agreed.

"We'll need every edge we can get," Garrus frowned. "We still don't know what we're going to find when we hit the Collectors."

"I will be prepared for whatever we encounter," Samara said calmly.

Jacob moved on to the next item on the agenda: "Where shall we put you?"

"A room that looks out on the great empty void would be most comforting," Samara replied.

"Put her in the observation room on Deck Three," I decided.

"Thank you," Samara nodded. "I must meditate on the day's events."

Miranda and Garrus escorted her out. Jacob saluted me before returning to the Armoury. I went to check my e-mail. There was one new message waiting for me:

_From: Detective Anaya_

_Greetings, Commander-_

_I'm not completely sure this will get to you, but thanks again for helping me deal with Samara. The Eclipse mercs have gotten real quiet around here, and my superiors have backed off, too. No idea if the two are related, but hopefully the next time I meet a justicar, I can give her the respect she deserves._

_I still can't believe I worked a case with one of them. You're a lucky human. If I find any more data on her target, I'll pass it along._

_Thanks,_

_Detective Anaya_  
><em>Illium Law Enforcement<em>

Later on, I dropped by to see how Samara was doing. She'd definitely made herself at home. That is, she ignored the big comfy couch, the snacks and the books. Instead, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the window. Between the palms of her hands, particles of biotic energy swirled and danced around each other, forming a sphere of light.

"Shepard," Samara greeted me.

"How are you?"

"I've spent much of the past 400 years on my own," she replied. "It is nice to have a colleague to chat with, though I may be rusty at it. Still, if you are willing to be patient, I would love to talk."

"I'm a sniper," I said. "Patience is part of the job description."

A flare of energy briefly coursed over her body before she craned her neck to look at me and tilted her head to a spot on the floor beside her. I walked over and sat down.

"Our conversations may not have brought you up to speed," I started, "and I don't know what the others have told you. How much do you know about our mission?"

"I know that I've sworn an oath to follow you and that you seek to destroy the Collectors. That is enough for me."

"You don't want to know why the Collectors need to be fought?" I asked sceptically.

"When you live by a code that compels you to harsh action, you learn the dangers of curiosity," she replied. "If I must kill a man because he has done wrong, do I really need to know he is a devoted father?"

Yeah, it's a bit hard to be all black-and-white when you're reminded that the real world isn't like that. Mind you, at least she knew that sticking your nose everywhere wasn't a good idea—unlike me. But she had just sworn to follow me. So who was the bigger fool here?

"What do you think of Cerberus?" I quickly asked, before I could get too bogged down.

"I have heard rumours," Samara admitted, "but learned long ago to form my own impressions. There is too much room for interpretation in the opinions of others."

So she wasn't gonna unleash some justicar whoop-ass or jump head-first just on someone else's say-so. Good to know, though that brought up another question: "Why were you willing to work for Cerberus if you didn't have first-hand knowledge?"

"I work for you, Shepard," she clarified. "Our methods may be different, but our goals are not."

"Speaking of goals, I'd like to hear more about your investigation on Nos Astra," I said.

She looked away and paused for a moment before responding. "I hope you will understand if I wish to avoid this topic. It is deeply tied to my code and beliefs. You might say it is... personal."

"I won't pry if you don't want me to," I replied carefully, "but I need to know if this will impact the mission." There were plenty of people whose personal demons had dragged me into one near-death after another. Since avoiding those situations was pretty much a hopeless cause at this point, I'd have to settle for a little more advance notice.

"It will not."

"I should get back to work," I said, getting to my feet. "Nice talking with you."

"It has been my pleasure, Commander."

* * *

><p>Illium was a nice place, I decided as I got out of the elevator. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to live there. Too many mercs. And guns. And life-threatening situations. Time to go someplace new.<p>

I was almost at the galaxy map when Kelly saw me. "Commander?"

"It's Shepard," I reminded her.

"Right," she grinned.

"What's up?" I asked.

"The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you. Joker has patched his signal through to the comm room."

Goddamnit.

Stifling a sigh, I turned around and headed for the comm room. No doubt he had some big important thing for me to do. So I'd have to drop everything I was doing and go forth. And he'd probably forget to mention something during the briefing.

Naturally I was correct on all counts.

* * *

><p><em>(1): At the time, Shepard had just over 45 000 credits in his (primary) account. A hefty sum in most cases. Not so much when one considered the purchases Shepard made, which were usually in the tens of thousands.<em>

_(2): Unlike most worlds, red sand was not illegal on Illium, despite its addictive qualities. However, one did require a license—thus fuelling a demand for the drug through alternate illegal means. _

_(3) One wonders whether they learned from the best. _

_(4): There is no indication that the term 'sister' enjoyed common usage amongst Eclipse mercenaries in general. Rather, it was probably used to foster a sense of unity and belonging amongst asari in this particular Eclipse band. _

_(5): Ms. Lawson, according to the after-action reports._

_(6): Possibly because only ten hours had passed since Detective Anaya first took Samara into custody._

_(7): The Third Oath of Subsumation, a pledge that is rarely sworn as it overrides even the commandments of the Justicar Code. It is usually invoked when justicars are forced to concede that justice cannot be served within the stark, black-or-white thinking of their world. _

_(8): Shepard conveniently neglects to add that Pitne For tried to bribe Shepard into giving him the shipping manifest._


	21. Personnel Report:  Jack

_Editorial Note: This personnel report focuses on Jack, one of Shepard's more volatile squad members. As usual, it includes both personal conversations and a mission that provides some sense of closure. _

**Personnel Report—Jack**

No one wanted to spend time with Jack unless they absolutely had to. Jack didn't want to spend time with anyone unless she absolutely had to. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, as far as everyone was concerned.

So why did I feel the need to drop by every now and then? It's not like I had a lack of people to harass. And most of them were a lot more stable and a lot less psychotic. Which brings me back to my original question: why did I insist on visiting her? Why didn't I take a hint from everyone else? Because I was curious about her—which meant I absolutely had to spend time with her. Maybe getting spaced had atrophied my sense of self-preservation. It would explain a lot.

"Hey," she nodded when she saw me.

Ignoring the fact that she was engaging and disengaging the safety on her pistol—I _still _hadn't managed to figure out how she swiped it out of the Armoury—I nodded back. "What are you up to?"

"Still checking out your ship." Getting bored, she got up off her bunk and started pacing around. "Wouldn't mind putting her through her paces when you're not around."

And here I thought it was Kasumi who was the thief. Note to self: if I wanted a ship to return to after each mission, make sure to bring Jack along. Unless she was pulling my leg. Hard to tell with her. "I doubt Joker would appreciate that," I warned. "At least, not while we're working."

"Relax," she said, leaning against a bulkhead. "Joy-riding doesn't have the thrill it used to. Besides, if I wanted it, I'd take it."

I raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

"I've been around," Jack shrugged. "Ran with gangs, wiped out some gangs. Joined a cult, kept the haircut. I learned how to survive and not be a victim."

As if I needed any more proof that she'd had a seriously messed-up past and might, just might, have some issues. "It's hard to imagine you in a cult," I smirked, keeping my concerns—or just my common sense—tightly bottled up. "That usually involves a lot of rules."

"I was looking for answers," Jack replied. "Drugs and sex and going to a better place. A better place... right. It was all about money. They wanted to take a colony, shake the suckers down to fund their spread. And guess who their ace in the hole was?"

Yeah, that was a no-brainer.

"They were just like the rest," Jack spat bitterly. "Didn't give one shit about me."

"What did you do when you found out?"

Jack gave me a look. "What do you think?"

Well I was looking for specifics, but I guess I'd have to settle for letting my overactive imagination fill in the blanks. Gave me shivers just thinking about—gah! "You must have met some good people, too," I tried, hoping to get her out of her funk before she took it out on the Normandy. Or me.

"You've seen where I came from," she snorted. "Everybody wants something. And because of that, everything is fair game. Murder, assault, kidnapping, drugs, stealing, arson. Done it all. And that's the boring shit."

I had to shake my head. She was just reciting it like a real boring checklist. Probably was boring, for her.

She wasn't done yet. "Piracy, theft of military craft, destruction of a space station and vandalism—that was a good one."

"You were a pirate at one point?" I asked.

"Ties in with the kidnapping," Jack shrugged. "If you hijack a passenger ship and don't kill everyone, anyway. Good lesson. Simpler to just kill them all."

"Speaking of 'simpler,' military's anything but that," I pointed out. "Bet swiping a military vessel made you some friends."

"Shouldn't have left the thing unlocked," she sniffed. "Besides, parades are boring. I helped."

Note to self: _definitely _bring her with you. And don't let her get bored. "What about the space station?" I asked. "That's kinda pushing what I can believe."

"Ain't saying it was easy," she admitted. "Not everything is spur of the moment. Sometimes you gotta work to give people what they deserve."

"So what happened?" I asked.

"Had some people I hung with for a while," Jack said. "Outlaw colony. Felt like they were like me. Guess that made us a nice target. Turians think they know something about a scorched earth response. Fuck 'em."

"So you've got murder, assault, kidnapping, drugs, stealing, arson, piracy, theft and destroying space stations," I summarized. "I'm surprised you'd even mention vandalism in that bunch."

Jack grinned for the first time. "That's what the hanar call it when you crash that space station I mentioned into one of their moons and make a new crater."

Ooh. Yeah, they were a bit touchy about things like that.

Jack clearly knew that as well. "They really liked that moon," she chuckled.

"Do you ever wonder if you could have done things differently?" I asked carefully.

"No."

"Shouldn't you?" I pressed.

"There's no reason I should be alive, but I am," she replied coldly. "You know why? Instinct. It's worked for me so far and I'm not gonna change."

Still seems pretty psycho to me, but I'm a firm believer in the ol' adage of 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.' Unless a newer model comes along, of course.

I was about to turn and go when Jack called out. "Hey, Shepard."

"Yeah?" I said, turning back.

"No one's ever asked me about this shit. It's strange to talk about. So fuck you. And thanks for asking."

"Um. You're welcome."

I think.

* * *

><p>It was cheery conversations like that which discouraged people from hanging out with her. Even if she did wear next to nothing from the waist up. So it was a bit of a surprise when Jack actually emerged from her hidey-hole, looked around for me, simultaneously aroused and traumatized Ken, then finally left a message with Kelly.<p>

When I found her, she was wearing a groove in the floor with her pacing. "I got thoughts like little bugs crawling in and out of my head," she blurted out. "I can't stop them." Then she walked past me.

"You know I have a history with Cerberus," her voice echoed out. "You know how far back it goes?"

I followed the sound of her voice. She was sitting on one of the stairs leading up to Deck Four. "Not exactly, but I'll listen to anything you have to say, Jack," I told her.

"Your pal, the Illusive Man?" Jack started.

"He's not my pal," I interrupted.

"Whatever," Jack said. "Anyway, I've never seen him before, but he's the reason why Cerberus raised me. First thing I remember is my cell door in a Cerberus base. They did experiments. Drugged me. Tortured me. Whatever chance I had to be normal, they stole it by trying to turn me into some super-biotic. The doctors... the other kids... Every one of them hated me. They let me suffer."

Sadly, I wasn't surprised. "What did they hope to gain by torturing a little girl?" I asked.

"It was something about pain breaking down mental barriers and how it might clear the way for more biotic power," she said, closing her eyes and frowning in concentration. "I'm sure there was a payoff due at some point, but I wasn't going to see it. I was wired up in a cell."

"They tortured you just to see if they could make a strong biotic," I repeated. "That's it?"

"Wasn't in a position to ask, Shepard," Jack reminded me. "All I know is... a little girl crying in a cell, begging for the pain to stop..."

Geez, this was really messed up. Or fucked up, to use Jack's words. Maybe _this _was why I kept poking my nose around.

"And you weren't the only one," I said. Even by Cerberus standards, this was sick. "There were other children in the base?"

"I didn't know much about them," Jack growled. "I was kept separate. They hated me, just like everyone else there. When I broke out, I had to fight through them all. I showed them, but there's a loose end I need to deal with."

"How did you get out of there?"

"There was some kind of emergency and I made a break for it," Jack replied. "The other kids came out of their cells and attacked me. So did the guards. I just killed everything in my way and ran. Guess my biotics had developed faster than they thought. I managed to get a shuttle off the ground. Drifted until a freighter picked me up. The crew used me, then sold me. That's my uplifting escape story."

"You're absolutely certain that Cerberus was running the facility?" I asked, just for the sake of confirmation.

"I was a kid, but I wasn't dumb," Jack sneered. "I know how to listen. It was Cerberus. Don't care how far down the chain it was. They thought they were so clever. Turns out, mess with someone's head enough and you can turn a scared kid into an all-powerful bitch. Fucking idiots."

"I'm gonna talk to the Illusive Man again," I scowled, "and he'd better have some answers." **(1)**

"He'll just deny everything," Jack waved it off. "That's not what I'm after anyway. I found the coordinates in your files," she said, lifting a datapad up. "I want to go to the Teltin facility on Pragia, where they tortured and drugged me."

She got to her feet, growing more animated as she continued. "I want to go to the centre of the place—my cell. I want to deploy a big fucking bomb. And I want to watch from orbit when it goes off."

Yes. Watching from orbit is good. "Is this facility still active," I asked.

Jack shook her head. "The files say it was shut down after my escape. It's been abandoned for years. You think Cerberus is gonna care if I blow up a garbage dump?"

"If they do, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," I decided. "I'll set a course for Pragia."

Jack looked at me in surprise. She probably couldn't believe I'd give the okay so easily. "I owe you, Shepard," she finally said, before returning to her bunk.

* * *

><p>"I hate this place," Jack muttered.<p>

We had entered synchronous orbit over the Teltin facility a half hour ago. We would've arrived sooner, but TIMmy wanted to have a chat. In my book, though, a plea from a psychotic biotic beats chatting with him any day of the week. So I went to the comm room, started talking to TIMmy, then had Joker cut the connection. **(2)** As I'd hoped, he'd turned off his command overrides once I responded, so we were able to regain control of the Normandy and jump to the Dakka system before he could lock me out again.

I had debated whether to bring everybody along. After all, it might be a good team-building exercise if everybody came along to support Jack. Of course, she might be offended if I drag everybody with me. Then again, she might be offended if I didn't.

In the end, I just told them that Jack and I were going down to her old stomping grounds where bad people did bad things and left it up to them to decide whether to come. When Jack saw that everybody—even "Jacob and the cheerleader"—decided to tag along, she just rolled her eyes, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Fuck it, not my fault if you wanna waste your time" and clambered onboard.

Jack pointed out the window to the facility. "See the landing pad?" she said. "Has to be on the roof, or the vegetation would overgrow it in a few hours." **(3)**

"_Shepard,"_ EDI broke in. _"I am picking up thermal signatures everywhere, except at your landing zone."_

"So either the landing zone's stone cold or something's distorting the sensors," I concluded.

"Of course. This was a secret Cerberus facility," Tali reminded us.

I don't think there was any other kind, but she had a point.

"Yeah, they build their equipment to last. Assholes," Jack spat. I almost missed the look of trepidation on her face underneath her scowl. "It was a mistake coming back here, Shepard."

"Calm down," I replied. "It'll be okay."

My confidence was apparently enough to assuage her fears. She took a deep breath, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Let's get on the ground."

It was raining steadily when we got out, the clouds making everything very gloomy and dark. Kinda like Jack's mood. "Let's just get in there and plant the bomb in my cell," Jack urged. "I want to watch this place burn."

Good idea, I thought. I was getting soaked.

We quickly hustled down the stairs and into the complex. As we shook ourselves dry—literally, in Grunt's case—I looked around. Typical abandoned facility—no lights, papers and containers scattered everywhere, stains all over the place. There were a lot of puddles and dripping water, mostly through holes created by bushy plant growth and vines that had forced their way in.

"I never saw this room," Jack commented, looking around. She pointed to a stack of containers. "I think they brought new kids in those things. They were messed up and starving, but alive. Usually."

"This is..." Jacob shook his head. "...unbelievable," he finally said.

Yeah, that's one way of putting it.

Pausing to grab some loot, we went through a door and down some stairs into another room. It had an active security console that was on a loop, repeating the same vid-recording over and over again:

"_The Illusive Man requested operation logs again,"_ one man was saying. _"He's getting suspicious."_

"_When we get results, he won't care what he did,"_ another man said with false bravado. _"But if he knew..."_

"_He won't find out,"_ the first one replied firmly.

"Sounds like this facility went rogue," Miranda said. I wasn't sure if the tone in her voice was thoughtful or hopeful.

Apparently, Jack was certain it was the latter. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" she snapped. "He didn't say what they were hiding from the Illusive Man."

The next room was a lot larger. It seemed like some kind of atrium, or at least a storage bay with a lot of windows. Containers were scattered everywhere, all drenched with rain from the broken skylights above us. Trees were actually bursting out of the floor, stretching all the way through the roof.

"I remember escaping to this room," Jack said with a cold, brittle smile. "Fighting here. I saw sunlight through the cracks in the ceiling. Only a half-dead guard between me and freedom. He was begging for his life."

No one was sure how to respond to that, so we silently made our way through the room, keeping an eye out for vines and roots. Well, the rest of the squad was—I was also on the lookout for loot. Which I found, of course. About halfway through the room, we ran into a small pack of varren. Thankfully, their growls gave them away, so we were already dropping biotics and plasma on them before they even noticed us. It didn't take long to finish them off after that.

Near the end of the room, we came across a small spot. There were a bunch of barricades arranged in a rough circle. Inside the circle, I could see some knocked-over barricades, broken tiles, dirt and scratches. And blood stains.

"This almost looks like an arena," I said.

"That's right," Jack confirmed. "They used to stage fights here. Pit me against other kids. I loved it. Only time I was ever out of my cell."

"Was this for some sick kind of game," I asked, "or were they actually studying something here?"

"Hell if I know," Jack shrugged. "Maybe that's how they got their kicks. I never understood anything that happened here."

"How often did they do this?"

"I was in a cell my whole life," Jack replied. "Sometimes they took me out and made me fight. Filled me with drugs. Other stuff. Time gets funny in a cell."

Time for the latest disturbing question: "Did other kids die in these fights?"

"Sometimes," Jack said. "I was a kid, filled with drugs and told to fight. When I hesitated, I got shocked. When I attacked, narcotics flooded my veins."

"They actually rewarded you for attacking?" I asked in disbelief.

Jack gave me a disturbing grin. "I still get warm feelings during a fight."

Okay, I thought playing around with thorian creepers and rachni and subjecting entire colonies to wacky experiments was screwed up. This was just _sick_. "What the hell was wrong with those people?" I burst out, trying not to look at Jacob or Miranda.

"I don't know," Jack shrugged again. "Doesn't matter."

"Let's get going," I said. I've seen a lot of disturbing sights in my life, but this was rapidly rocketing towards the top of my depressingly long list. Judging by the looks of the other squad mates, I wasn't the only one.

"Hell yes," Jack nodded.

As it turned out, we only got out of the room and halfway down the adjoining corridor before we came across a security console. It still had power, so I tried to pull up any logs. All I got was a fragment of the last recording:

"_Security Officer Zemkl, Teltin facility,"_ a man in a hardsuit was saying. _"The subjects are out of their cells! They're tearing the place apart! Subject Zero is going to get loose. I need permission to terminate—I repeat, permission to terminate!"_

"_Permission denied,"_ someone else replied. _"All subjects besides Zero are expendable. _Keep Jack alive!_"_

"_Understood,"_ Zemkl sighed. _"I'll begin the—"_

Jack shut down the recording before he could finish. "That's not right," she snapped. "I broke out when my guards disappeared—I started that riot."

"Things might have happened that you didn't see," I suggested.

"The other kids attacked me. The guards attacked me. The automated systems attacked me," Jack retorted, stabbing a finger into my chest plate. That doesn't leave room for interpretation."

I wasn't so sure. Being attacked didn't necessarily identify how the riot actually started. But I kept my mouth shut and looked around. The corridor we were in was a dead-end. The only way forward was through a nearby door that went down a couple flights of stairs. Between the first and second set of stairs was a locked door. And a dead varren.

"This place is supposed to be empty," Jack frowned. "Who the fuck shot that varren? It's a fresh kill."

"Clearly we're not the only ones here, so stay alert."

"Mmm..."

"Uh, Grunt? Did you hear me?"

"Fresh kill..." I'm sure Grunt was drooling.

"You just ate before we left," Garrus protested. "Gardner was practically in tears when I dragged you away."

"So? That was half an hour ago."

"Try fifteen minutes," Kasumi corrected. "Plus, it's raw. I know that's funny coming from me—believe me, you haven't _lived _until you've tried sashimi. But at least you prepare and treat it first!"

My fingers were busy bypassing the lock, but my mouth was still free: "Jack, I agree that that varren didn't shoot itself. Kasumi, I'm with you—fresh sashimi is _amazing_. Grunt, you've eaten enough for now. You can't bring it with you and you can't take a bite before we go."

"I fear you are too late," Thane told me.

Ignoring the chomping sounds I heard behind me, I finally bypassed the door and entered a small storage room. I paused long enough to swipe some eezo and led the squad on before Grunt could have some more lunch—or anyone else could lose theirs. We went down another flight of stairs, around a couple corners and into a large room filled with containers and tables. Tables with dark stains on them. Before I could consider that, I saw movement.

"Company," I yelled.

We were already ducking for cover as the bad guys opened fire. Vorcha, mostly. Sporting Blood Pack colours. Noting that one of them was carrying a flamethrower, I melted his armour. Miranda promptly overloaded the fuel pack regulators. A look of horror spread across the vorcha's face before he frantically scrambled to unhook the fuel pack. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have enough time. As he went up in a burst of flame, I looked around. Where there were Blood Pack vorcha, there was a good chance that there would also be...

Aw, crap.

"Krogan!" I called out. Using my HUD, I assigned Mordin and Thane to the task of melting or ripping off its armour. As soon as my omni-tool had recharged, I set him on fire. The krogan managed to voice his anger at this development before Jack sent a biotic shockwave his way, followed shortly by an inferno grenade from Zaeed. Satisfied that the krogan had been dealt with, I turned my attention back to the vorcha. One of them was stumbling around without any armour, but Grunt and Garrus got to him first with twin concussive rounds. So I fired a shot from my sniper rifle through another vorcha's armour and into his skull.

"More vorcha on our left," Garrus warned.

He was right. Four more vorcha were trying to sneak up on our side and ambush us. Luckily, Garrus was paying attention to his HUD and gave the heads-up. By the time they crashed the party, we had found new firing positions and were waiting for them. They had just enough time to show surprise on their ugly mugs before we opened fire. The ensuing firefight was very one-sided and only lasted a minute.

"Why'd they need a morgue?" Jack asked herself afterward. "This was a small facility."

Aw, crap. Now that I had a chance to look, those tables did look like something you'd see in a morgue. I always thought they were cleaner, though. And larger.

"I'm saying..." Kasumi inhaled sharply, abruptly forgetting whatever it was she was going to say. "...these tables are the perfect size for little kids. Dissecting _children_... oh God."

"Looks like a lot of kids died in these experiments," Zaeed said quietly. "I've done some bad stuff, but this..."

"Bullshit!" Jack spat. "_I_ had the worst of it and _I _made it out alive."

That might be so, but there were an awful lot of people who didn't. I didn't mention that, though. Dying was easy, as we'd just demonstrated. Living, that was hard. I didn't say that either. We quickly looked around for anything useful and got out of the morgue.

Leaving it to the dead—new and otherwise.

* * *

><p>The morgue exit led us to a catwalk, part of a two-story open-concept room. Large glass panes lined the walls on our left, showing a row of smaller, more cluttered rooms. This area seemed a lot cleaner than the rest of the facility that we had passed through so far, which made it easier to see the Cerberus symbols stamped everywhere. I guess Cerberus advertising was just as aggressive back then as it was now.<p>

Jack was pausing and looking around just as much as the rest of us. "So strange to be back here," she said softly. "I feel like... I'm pissed off. I'm a dangerous bitch. But then I'm a little girl again."

"Are you surprised?" I asked. "Sure you're a bad-ass now, but you were just a kid in here. Subjected to all sorts of pain and torture. This hellhole's bound to bring some of those memories back."

"Shit," she shook her head. "It's complicated. Let's just go plant that bomb."

The catwalk led us to an empty room with broken windows and grass sprouting amidst dirty, damp tiles. As we weren't on a nature hike, we got out of their almost immediately and headed down some more stairs. Some vorcha tried to ambush us halfway down on an elevated walkway that overlooked the stairs. To be honest, it would have been scarier if we didn't outnumber them six to one. They certainly didn't slow us down.

We did slow down once we entered the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, though. It was dark, there was lots of clutter to step over, and a trio of varren met us with growls and fangs as soon as we entered. We hastily backed up, firing biotics and plasma before finishing them off with gunfire. After that, we were very careful, clearing each cell before moving on. I say cell because it looked more like a corridor of prison cells than a dormitory.

"They kept children here?" Jacob whispered after the fifth or sixth cell. He turned to Miranda as if hoping she'd have answers. Miranda didn't respond, probably because she was biting her lip. I also noticed that her face was paler than usual.

The door at the end of the hallway led into another large room. There was a catwalk that wrapped around the room, hugging the walls. Below us was a floor filled with debris and clutter.

Jack abruptly halted when we were halfway along the catwalk, staring at a set of large windows.

"This... it's a two-way mirror?" Jack sputtered.

Oh. I guess that wasn't a window after all.

"My cell is on the other side," Jack burst out. "I could see all the other kids out here. I screamed at them for hours. They always ignored me. Why didn't they hear me?"

"Maybe it was soundproofed," Garrus suggested. "If so, it wouldn't matter how long or how loud you screamed."

"He's right," I said. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't their fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."

Not knowing what else to say, I let Jack digest that while we kept going. I swiped some medi-gel before leaving the room and going down another long, messy, plant-infested hallway that ended at a T-junction. The left turn led us into a small room with stacks of crates along the wall and some kind of chair—the one you see at dentists—in the middle. Though I don't recall dentist chairs with shackles at the wrists and ankles.

"I must have come through here when I broke out," Jack frowned, "but I don't remember it."

The right hand corridor was more interesting. I managed to dig up some spare power cells and a schematic for a biotic amp upgrade. More importantly—for Jack and my curiosity—I found a couple computer consoles. Sifting through the first one, I managed to retrieve a log entry that was still in the buffer:

"_Entry 1054, Teltin facility,"_ some guy said, all too calmly. _"The latest iteration of PergNim went poorly. Subjects One, Four and Six died. No biotic change among the survivors. We lowered core temperatures of surviving subjects, but no biotically beneficial reactions occurred. As a side effect, all subjects died. So we'll _not_ try that on Zero. I hope our supply of biotic-potential subjects holds up. We are going through them fast."_

"This is bullshit!" Jack declared, whirling towards me. "They weren't experimenting on the other children for my safety!"

Looking in her eyes, I didn't see anger or indignation as much as I saw, well, shock. I don't think it occurred to her that she wasn't the only one who suffered here. "No, it looks like they were used to figure out what would boost biotics," I replied. "Anything that worked, they gave to you."

"You don't get it, Shepard," Jack replied. "I survived this place because I was tougher than the rest. That's who I am."

"I know," I nodded. "You move on, harder and tougher. But other kids suffered here, too."

I couldn't dig anything else out of the console, so I moved to the next one. It took a bit of work, but I found another log entry after a couple minutes. As it turned out, it was the same guy who'd given the experimental results. He wasn't as calm this time, though:

"_It's all fallen to pieces. The subjects are rampaging and Zero is loose. We're shutting Teltin down. What a _disaster_. We'll infiltrate and piggyback onto the Alliance's Ascension program. Hopefully that will..."_

He broke off and turned to his side. We heard a humming sound, the kind you hear when a mass effect field was being generated. "Who are..." the man started before his eyes widened. "Zero, wait—" The recording broke off, but not before we saw him flying through the air.

"Shepard, they started up somewhere else!" Jack cried out.

I shook my head. "Ascension is an Alliance program. It's a school for biotic kids, with civilian support and parental input. They don't torture children there." **(4) **

"You're sure?"

"Never been there myself," I shrugged, "but I read the reports and news stories. They let parents come and visit. Kids are free to go whenever their families give the word. The Alliance inspects them twice a year."

Jack looked back and forth between the two computer consoles. "A lot of this... isn't the way I remember it."

"You couldn't have known what was really going on," I reassured her. "There was a lot going on."

"Yeah? Well, I'm a lot smarter now," Jack retorted. "I keep my eyes open and I always shoot first."

Well, I tried to be sympathetic. Guess she was still processing everything.

"We're getting close to my cell," Jack said. "The place I came from. Let's keep moving."

There was only one door out of here. As we approached it, I suddenly felt the back of my neck start to tingle. I led the squad through, tightly gripping my sniper rifle.

Sure enough, the room we entered was filled with krogan and vorcha.

Aw, crap.

One of them looked at us, then turned away and activated his comm. "Hey Aresh, it's Kureck. Yeah, the intruders are here. You want them dead, we have to talk creds."

Not surprisingly, we all charged our weapons at that point.

Kureck paused a moment. Evidently, he didn't like what he heard. "You promised us lots of salvage, but this place is a waste," he snapped. He paused again, then sighed. "Fine—we'll put 'em down. Then I'm coming in there and we're gonna talk salvage."

"Hi guys," I said brightly. "Is that why you guys are here? Salvage?"

"That's what we were told," Kureck replied. "So far, it's been a whole lotta nothing. So I think we're gonna kill you. After that... we'll see."

"If you want creds, maybe we can make a deal," I offered. "You want some medi-gel or something?"

To his credit, Kureck considered that for a moment. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I'd rather kill you."

Figures.

"Concentrate fire!" Kureck ordered his troops as we scattered for cover. "All squads—form up now!"

Looking around, I noticed that one of the vorcha was carrying a flamethrower. Before he could get any bright ideas, I blasted through his armour and let Miranda blow up the fuel pack. While that vorcha was howling with his last breath, I aimed my sniper rifle at one of the krogan. Unfortunately, he ducked behind a crate before I could get a lock. Lowering my sniper rifle in annoyance, I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. One of the vorcha was sidling along the left, no doubt hoping to sneak behind and get the drop on us.

Getting Thane's attention, I had him crack the vorcha's armour open with his biotics. By then, my omni-tool had charged up another dose of plasma, which I sent merrily blazing his way.

"Tighten up," Kureck roared. "I want suppression and I want it now!"

We don't always get what we want. Case in point: we weren't really seeing the suppression Kureck wanted, mainly because Garrus had Team Two dropping the rest of the vorcha one by one. Miranda, Grunt and Kasumi had been slowly chipping away at the armour protecting one of the krogan. I noticed Miranda intently staring at that krogan, no doubt assessing the integrity of the armour. Evidently, she had decided it was weak enough, because she launched a whirling ball of biotic energy at him. The armour popped open with a loud crack. By then, Thane and I were ready for another round and we gave him a one-two punch of biotics and plasma. The big lug went down for the count.

Kureck spat out a string of words I couldn't understand, but I was fairly confident that they expressed his frustration. Grunt's laughter seemed to confirm that, though it was possible that he was just having a good time. While I pondered that, I noticed that the other krogan had roped a pair of vorcha to tiptoe down the right hand side of the room. Team Two managed to drop the vorcha, but the krogan was still heading our way.

"Team Two, focus on the remaining vorcha. Team One will deal with the approaching krogan." I fired another round of plasma, hoping I wouldn't regret that last sentence. Miranda and Thane attacked him with their biotics. His armour couldn't withstand that assault, not after the damage done by my fireball.

Unfortunately, it had lasted long enough for him to get to our side of the room, which meant he had a clear line of sight to all of us.

"I will destroy you!" Jack yelled, lifting him up with her biotics. Well, she tried to lift him up. The biotic field surrounded him and he was wobbling a bit, but he didn't float up in the air. Still, he paused long enough for Miranda to recover her strength and detonate Jack's levitation field with a biotic attack of her own. The resulting flash and explosion had barely waned when I set him on fire. A single bullet from Kasumi was finally enough to take him down.

"Useless, all of you!" Kureck raged. "I'll kill them myself!" As I watched, he moved over to the left and started stomping our way. And unless my sensors were malfunctioning, Kureck had a biotic barrier protecting him as well as armour plating and the usual oversized hardsuit.

Aw, crap. The only bright side was the fact that it had taken this long before he started charging us. Uncharacteristically patient of him. Shame he couldn't have been a little more patient.

In unison, we all scrambled for submachine guns and assault rifles and laid down a withering barrage of rapid fire. After thirty or forty seconds of constant fire, we managed to drop his barriers. Mordin and I aimed our omni-tools at him, adjusted our aim as Kureck made a bee-line for us through the centre of the room, and lit him up with twin fireballs. It was Thane who managed to blast his armour off with his biotics.

Unfortunately, Kureck was right on top of us by that point. I could literally smell his breath—it reeked.

I cloaked, lifted my sniper rifle and fired a shot into his skull at point-blank range. He stumbled back, shook his head and glared at me.

Aw, crap.

Then I heard a rat-tat-tat sound. Kureck suddenly looked confused, swayed back and forth...

...then toppled to the ground.

I traced the sound back to its source. "Thanks," I nodded.

Miranda silently nodded back.

"Only room left is my old cell," Jack said, walking up to me. "Whoever Aresh is, he's in there."

"Right," I nodded. "Let's look around to replenish our ammo and whatnot. Then we can go to your cell and have a chat with him."

"Sure. I wanted to plant the bomb there anyway," Jack added. "Might as well do it on his corpse."

She's always looking on the bright side of things.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for us to sift through the wreckage—and bodies. Kureck wasn't kidding when he said there wasn't much to salvage. As a result, we reached Jack's cell within five minutes.<p>

We hadn't met anyone along the way to Jack's cell. And we hadn't seen any other doors or rooms. Which meant that Aresh had to be hiding somewhere in the cell.

"Come out now," I barked, using my best 'Do what I say NOW' voice. "We know you're here."

A man slowly stood up from his hiding spot between a large crate and a bed. "Who are you?" Jack demanded.

"My name is Aresh," he replied calmly, "and you're breaking into my home. I know you, Subject Zero." He stepped forward, prompting Jack to lift her pistol. Ignoring the threat of imminent and violent death, he continued talking. "So many years have passed. I thought I was the only survivor."

Jack sneered at him, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it. Not completely, anyway. "My name is Jack," she corrected. "How the hell do you know me?"

"We all knew your face, Jack," Aresh said. "They inflicted horrors on us so their experiments wouldn't kill you. You were the question... and I'm still looking for the answer."

I glanced over at Jack. "Looks like you're not the only one pulled back here."

"I tried to forget this. But a place like this... it doesn't forget you," Aresh whispered, tapping the side of his head. "It follows you. I hired these mercs and came back almost a solar year ago. We're rebuilding it, piece by piece."

This suggested that Kureck was a lot more patient than he'd led us to believe, if he had his mercs rummaging through pitiful amounts of salvage for that long.

"I'm going to find out what they knew," Aresh continued dreamily. "How to unlock true biotic potential in humans. I'm restarting the Teltin facility. It will be beautiful."

Jack immediately tensed up. "I wanted a hole in the ground—he's trying to justify what happened by using it?"

"You'd do the same thing to new kids?" I asked him. "Wasn't this forced on you?"

"Some were bought from poor families on Earth or kidnapped from colonies," Aresh explained. "Most ended up here the way I did: batarian pirates. They did such _horrible _things to us. They must have had good reasons."

"There's no reason good enough," Jack burst out. "Are you nuts? You lived it!"

"And then escaped," I added. "This place was like a prison. How did you get out?"

"We all attacked at once as they were taking us to the lab," Aresh replied. "They would have put us down, but then Jack got loose. When I came to, it was over—the guards, the scientists and the other kids were all dead. And you were gone, Jack."

So Jack _didn't _start the riot after all. Interesting.

"I stopped it, all of it," Jack snapped. "Maybe the others did have it bad, but what you're doing is just messed up."

"Everything we went through must have been worth _something_!" he snapped back, showing emotion for the first time.

Understandable, I suppose. Aresh had spent his entire childhood being tortured. The only way to cope with that sort of trauma was to rationalize it. It wasn't Stockholm syndrome so much as it was trying to make sense of a galaxy that... well... didn't make sense. Whatever.

"We can blow up the place, but that still leaves him. "What do we do with another you, Jack?"

I regretted the words as soon as they'd left my mouth. They were sure to set Jack off. She proved me right immediately. "That's easy," Jack replied, walking forward.

"Just leave me here," Aresh pleaded. "This is where I belong."

"Fuck that," Jack snarled. She brought him down to his knees with her biotics, then pointed her pistol at him.

"Jack, he's trapped in his past," I said quickly. "You need to move on from yours."

"He wants to restart this place," Jack retorted. "He needs to die!"

"He's crazy and he's never going to restart this facility," I replied. "You have to let it go. Your past doesn't have to control you."

She looked at me, then down to Aresh, then back to me. Then she looked at Aresh again. "Fuck," she cried out in frustration.

"Get out of here," she snarled, lowering her pistol. Aresh scrambled to his feet.

"Go!"

We all stepped aside as Aresh bolted from the room. Garrus watched him disappear down the colony. He later told me that he'd thought about apprehending Aresh so we could drop him off at some psychiatric facility—non-Cerberus, of course—but figured it was more important as team leader to stick around and offer Jack his support. I agreed that that was the right call, mostly because I didn't think about chasing after Aresh. As it turned out, Jack agreed with us.

"He's not worth chasing," Jack muttered. "None of it is."

"You did the right thing, Jack," I said.

"Maybe." Jack looked around the cell. "This room was my whole childhood. Give me a minute to look around?"

"Sure," I nodded. "Go ahead."

"Nothing's changed," she said, walking to the window. "But it's all different, somehow."

She stared out of the window for a minute. "I thought that room out there was the rest of the world," she revealed. "I'd pound and yell. Never did any good. Maybe this was soundproofed, too."

Then she took a few quick steps over to an old, beat-up table. A lamp and several papers were scattered across the surface. "I used this table for everything," Jack said. "It was like my best friend. I'd crawl under it to cry. I was pathetic."

Before I could say anything, she was on the move again. A couple seconds later, she was standing in front of the bed. "Sometimes I dream that I'm back in this bed being tortured. I used to tie the sheets around my wrists and try to rip them off. I want to stop coming back here."

Guess that was the real reason why she chose the dimly lit, pipe-laden obstacle course under Engineering for her 'room' rather than a proper bunk. Beds were just too scary for her.

I decided to keep my mouth shut. Seemed like she was talking to herself—_for _herself—as much as she was talking to the rest of us; seeing these childhood memories for the first time as an adult, just like us. Maybe she didn't need us to say anything as much as she just needed someone to keep her company. Someone to witness the horrors she'd endured.

I suddenly realized that Jack had left the room. The squad was already following her, so I was the last one out. We congregated outside, near a section of the wall that sported a man-sized dent, right in the middle of a large, dried blood spatter. "See the scarring on the wall here?" Jack pointed out. "That's where I killed my first man. One of the guards tried to stop me." **(5)** She ran a hand along the wall before stepping back. "Instead, I stopped him."

"Okay, no more wallowing," Jack declared, facing us for the first time in, well, the last couple minutes. "Let's blow this place to hell."

I motioned to Grunt, who I'd finagled into lugging the bomb without much difficulty. It wasn't hard. All I had to say was that he was strong enough to carry it to the destination despite anything that we might run into—words I definitely regretted now—and he could ensure that this place would face a glorious demise by fiery explosion. Anyway, Jack spent several minutes deciding where to place the bomb, then changing her mind, then changing her mind again.

It was still raining when we left the facility, so we didn't waste any time getting back to the shuttle. As it lifted off, Jack grabbed the remote detonator. For a moment, I thought she was gonna set the bomb off right then and there. Instead, she just flipped the cap covering the trigger open, then closed it. Open, close. Open, close. Open, close. Open...

I banged the wall behind me, hoping the shuttle VI would interpret that to accelerate. Sure enough, the shuttle picked up speed—just as Jack pressed the trigger. Thankfully, we were almost out of the blast radius, so we were just shaken around a bit by the shockwave.

As the bouncing stopped and the shuttle flew into the atmosphere, I linked my omni-tool to the shuttle's comm system and started playing an audio file that I had been saving for a mission like this:

"_I can't seem to face up to the facts.  
>I'm tense and nervous and I<br>can't relax  
>I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire.<br>Don't touch me I'm a real live wire._

_"Psycho Killer_  
><em>Qu'est-ce que c'est<em>  
><em>fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better<em>  
><em>Run run run run run run run away<em>  
><em>Psycho Killer<em>  
><em>Qu'est-ce que c'est<em>  
><em>fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better<em>  
><em>Run run run run run run run away." <em>**(6)**

That song seemed to cheer Jack up and scare everyone else. Not sure why.

* * *

><p>I was in the middle of my usual rounds when Joker contacted me over the comm. "Commander? EDI says Jack and Miranda are in the middle of a... disagreement. Can you head it off before they tear out a bulkhead?"<p>

Oh for crying out loud.

"I'll deal with it," I replied, making an about-face and heading for Miranda's office.

"Take pictures," Joker said cheerfully.

I arrived just in time to hear Jack. "Touch me and I will smear the walls with you, bitch!" As the doors opened, I saw Jack flinging a chair towards Miranda with her biotics. Miranda leaned out of the way, biotics flaring into a protective barrier in case she'd misjudged the trajectory. She didn't, so the chair just slammed into the wall and bounced off.

"Am I interrupting something?" I asked innocently.

Jack hurled another chair, which Miranda deflected back. Almost took my head clean off. I decided that they needed to focus on something besides each other. "Joker suggested I take pictures."

"Not now, Shepard!" they snapped in unison. Once they realized that, they glared at each other. Again. Biotic fields started flaring around both of them.

"Enough!" I snapped. "Stand down, both of you!"

"The cheerleader won't admit what Cerberus did to me was wrong!" Jack seethed.

"It wasn't Cerberus," Miranda corrected in an icy voice. "Not really. But clearly you were a mistake."

"Screw you!" Jack spat, stabbing a finger in Miranda's face. "You've got no idea what they put me through! Maybe it's time I showed you!"

"Our mission is too important to let personal feelings get in the way," I broke in, stepping between the two of them. It was then that I realized I'd just stepped into the middle of a catfight between two very pissed and dangerous women, either of whom could grind me into a pulp. With their brains. Smart move, Shepard. What the hell were you thinking?

"Fuck feelings," Jack sneered. "I just want her dead."

"You both know what we're up against," I reminded them. "I need both of you if we're gonna pull this off. Save your anger for the Collectors."

Jack glared at me, but only for a moment. I suspect that had less to do with what I said and more to do with the fact that I'd taken time out of my busy day of harassing the crew to help her with some interior redecorating and demolishing. Still, she wasn't about to lose face by volunteering to back down.

Miranda, surprisingly enough, swallowed her pride first. "I can put aside my differences... until the mission's over."

"Sure," Jack agreed immediately. "I'll do my part. I'd hate to see her die before I get a chance to filet her myself."

"So you two are going to be okay?" I asked.

Jack ignored me and stomped out of the room. It may have been my imagination, but the air suddenly felt a whole lot lighter.

"It's a good thing you came by when you did," Miranda admitted, walking back to her desk. "As long as she does her job, we'll be fine. Thanks, Shepard."

I nodded, put the chair Jack knocked over back in its place and resumed my rounds. With a twist—I decided to see two specific people last, given the need for them to clear their heads and calm down. Even if it meant some extra walking around.

About an hour later, I popped back into Miranda's office.

"You're here to talk about Jack," she said. "You're usually pretty punctual about your daily visits," she added in response to the look of confusion on my face. "Under other circumstances, you wouldn't be here for another hour. I can only think of one reason why you'd be early."

Putting aside the thought that I used to be better at concealing stuff like that, I simply nodded. "What happened?"

"She barged in here, wanting an explanation for why Cerberus put her through what she experienced."

"What _was _Cerberus trying to prove by experimenting on children like Jack?" I asked.

"The Alliance was trying to start up the Ascension Project, but they were still reeling from the aftermath of the BAaT debacle. Cerberus wanted to start their own project to develop biotic potential. To succeed where the Alliance failed."

She winced before continuing: "Obviously, it was a mistake. There's no question about it. Apparently, Cerberus was trying to shut it down when the riot occurred."

"Really?"

Miranda handed over a datapad. An e-mail browser was open with the following message highlighted:

_To: Operative Lawson_

_From: Cerberus Intel  
>CC: Commander Shepard<em>

_Contacting you per Illusive Man's instructions. He believed you would want to know that he had ordered Subject Zero's project shut down before the riot broke out. Cerberus personnel arrived to find all guards dead, along with most of the subjects. Any surviving children were treated for injuries, given mild amnesic treatments, and delivered to Alliance facilities as survivors of slaver attacks. **(7)**A few surviving doctors were forcibly retired for their role in the project._

Per your report, the facility on Pragia has been destroyed.

Several files were attached to that message, and I took a few minutes to read through them. From what I could gather, Cerberus had never ordered the Teltin facility to torture the kids or subject them to all those horrific experiments. Of course, they didn't say they couldn't, either. Still, they did note several problems with the Teltin facility, including a reluctance to provide timely—or detailed—updates on their progress and a constantly increasing demand for 'biotic test subjects' without any sort of explanation. Attempts to investigate were rebuffed—either verbally or at gunpoint. According to the time stamps, TIMmy had indeed given the word to pull the plug weeks before everything went nuts.

That still didn't justify why TIMmy started that project in the first place, and I said as much. "There's no reason why Cerberus had to do that," I said. "Unless they were trying to create weapons for humanity's benefit, as defined by the Illusive Man."

Miranda stiffened. "_Weapons?_ We don't know that."

"I don't think they were torturing all those kids for kicks. You heard the logs: at the very least, they were looking for practical applications, and were willing to do anything to get them. It wouldn't be the first time either," I reminded her. "I saw your bases two years ago, remember? You were using husks, Thorian creepers, even rachni to make your own army!"

Miranda was quick with her rebuttal. "The husks were already dead, the Thorian creatures were mindless and the rachni were abandoned once we understood their intelligence."

"You're forgetting the settlement on Chasca," I replied. "Their colonial pioneer team was fully alive before Cerberus got its hands on them and turned them into husks. Was that deliberate, or another instance where an operation went rogue?"

"I... I don't know," Miranda admitted.

"And the rachni being abandoned when their intelligence was fully understood? Cerberus didn't exactly do a good job of cleaning up after their mess. Rachni were shipping themselves all over the Styx Theta cluster and wreaking havoc until I showed up. Isn't that a little sloppy?"

"You have a point there," Miranda conceded.

"So what was the purpose of all of that? A bunch of botched attempts to create—"

"We weren't breeding an army," Miranda interrupted. "We were breeding expendable shock troops for high-risk scenarios. How many soldiers died in Saren's attack on Eden Prime? How many would have lived if we'd had just a dozen rachni soldiers on our side?"

"If history is any indication, few if any soldiers would have survived," I replied. "It doesn't seem like any of those 'shock troops' are good at staying on anyone's side for long. Besides, there's that 'expendable' part. When you fall into the mindset where you can classify someone as expendable, it doesn't take much to start expanding that definition. First test subjects, then support staff, then the lower ranks. Before you know it, people like you and me are thrown into the meat grinder. Just because someone at the top decides that we're ultimately expendable."

At the time, I included schmucks like the two of us to drive my point home. If only I knew how prophetic my words would be. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes.

"That wouldn't happen," Miranda protested. "The Illusive Man—"

"Decreed that I was the only one worth saving from the Lazarus Project," I interrupted. "You said it yourself. "'Everyone else is expendable.'"

She didn't have a reply to that.

"That same kind of thinking also lends itself to sloppy planning, shortcuts or other things that tend to snowball into one big mess," I concluded. "I'm not saying Cerberus is the only group that does that and gets egg on its face, but it does seem to have a messier track record than others. And the Illusive Man still hasn't learned from it."

"I suppose I can see how your experiences might lead you to that conclusion," Miranda allowed grudgingly.

Wow. That must have taken a lot. I decided not to push the whole 'holier-than-thou' morality angle. It would probably wreck any progress I'd just made, not to mention the fact that I'd be stuck here all day. "How'd we get onto this subject in the first place again?"

"Jack."

"Right," I nodded. "Was that all she wanted? An explanation?"

"As you heard, she also wanted an admission that what Cerberus did was wrong."

"Was it?" I asked.

"The goal of the—"

"Yes, yes, yes," I butted in impatiently. "Biotic development, do a better job than the Alliance, ya-de-da-de-da. Was. It. Wrong?"

...

...

"I suppose so. Yes."

"Did you say that to Jack?"

"Jack wanted a fight more than an apology," Miranda said tersely.

That made sense. Plus, Miranda took a lot of—well-deserved, admittedly—pride in being right and bringing things to a successful conclusion. Apologizing or admitting she was wrong would be a difficult task—especially to someone who was the antithesis of everything she stood for. "Maybe so," I replied. "Still, maybe it would be worth sending an apology via e-mail. Not as personal, but it's less risky."

"For me or for Jack?" Miranda asked.

"Actually I was thinking of the entire ship," I admitted. "If the two of you come to blows, I might not get there in time before one of you punches a hole in the hull."

"Good point."

* * *

><p>Now all I had to do was talk to Jack, and I'd be done for the day. To my surprise, she wasn't virtually naked from the waist up when I found her. Apparently she'd marched up to Kelly and asked—well, demanded—something to wear that wasn't too girly. Rather than put in a requisitions request, Kelly took her back to her quarters and pulled out a leather vest, which Jack immediately took a liking to. Guess Kelly's psych degree wasn't just for show after all.<p>

"I needed to wipe that place off the map," Jack told me. "You took me there to do it and I owe you." She lay down on her bunk and stared at the ceiling. "You don't know what it's like, Shepard. To have garbage like that following you. It marks you in ways you... you don't expect."

"Not like that, no," I agreed. "But I've made a lot of hard choices, Jack. What to give up. Who... who to leave behind."

She stared at me suspiciously. "You shitting me, Shepard? The big commander hero? Who'd you leave behind?"

I slumped down on the floor. "Her name was Ashley," I said softly. "Lieutenant Ashley Williams. I rescued her from Eden Prime over two years ago, before I became a Spectre. We fought all over the galaxy to track down Saren Arterius, a rogue Spectre who'd allied himself with the geth. Along the way we discovered that he was working with the Reapers.

"We finally confronted him on Virmire. He'd found a workaround, if not a cure, to the genophage, and was using it to clone an army of krogan. We set up an improvised nuke to destroy the facility but geth reinforcements arrived before we could evacuate. There wasn't enough time to save everyone before it went off. It was either save Ash and a couple other soldiers or save a dozen people. She knew that. That's why she armed the nuke. She bought us enough time to get offworld before it blew. Took out an entire facility, more geth and krogan than you could count and a good chunk of the landscape to boot."

"Sounds like my kind of girl."

"I don't know," I said, grinning for the first time. "She had this thing about rules. Military brat and all that."

"Figures she'd be too good to be true," Jack snorted. "But I guess you do know about crap from your past. Hard to walk away from shit like that. You'd think it would get easier now that the place is a crater, but what do I know?"

"How about Aresh?" I asked. "I never thought I'd see you show mercy, but you let him live. Is it easier to walk away from a choice like that?"

"He was trapped in the past, reliving it every day," Jack said, still staring at the ceiling. "You showed how that could be me. I'm not getting stuck like that. I'm better than him and I'm sure as hell not carrying that crater around with me."

"What about Miranda?" I asked warily. "Are you going to carry your anger towards her around with you?" I asked warily.

"Yep."

Great.

"Speaking of the cheerleader, she sent me an apology," she added, lifting up a datapad. "Chicken must've been too scared to come down here. Still wanna beat her to a pulp, but I guess that can wait 'till later."

Yes. Later is good. "You feel any different at all?" I wanted to know. "You know, now that you blew up that facility?"

Jack sat up and swung her legs over to perch over the bunk. "I know that place is gone. But I still kind of want to kill every person I see. No offense."

"None taken," I lied, suppressing the urge to step back. "I'll take what I can get with you, Jack."

"So is that it?" she asked. "That's why you're here?"

Pretty much. That really should be my cue to get outta here. That would be the smart thing to d—aw, screw it.

"Just curious to see how you were doing," I told her. "And maybe curious in general. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Nothing to tell," Jack said, staring at me suspiciously. "Why?"

"I wanna know more," I shrugged. "Like I said, I'm curious."

"I'm here to fight for you," she said, standing up. "Nothing says we have to be friends. But whatever. Something you don't know, like what's up with my ink? Or something else just as boring?"

Jack leaned against some of the pipes and glared at me. "You're not really interested unless it affects you. I've been through all this shit before."

"You're a hard person to like, Jack."

"Really?" Jack asked, laying on the sarcasm with a trowel. "I had no idea. What other insights do you have that I'm too stupid to see?"

I decided to ignore that. "I'll bite: what's with the tattoos?"

She looked up and down her arms. Her chest too, though that was a moot point now that it was covered. "Some are for prisons I've been in. Some are for kills. You know, good ones. Some are for things I've lost. Those aren't your business. They're nobody's business. And some are because, hey, why the fuck not?"

"You're tough, but you can't have survived alone all of these years. Don't you have _any _friends?" I asked.

Jack crossed her arms. "When I was starting out, I ran with this girl Manara and her boyfriend. They knew their way around. I thought they would help me. Right."

She snorted. "They helped me into their bed. And when we finally did take down something big, they helped themselves to my share of the take. I knew where it was heading and I got them first. Never bothered with friends after that."

"They sound like selfish pricks," I agreed. "That doesn't mean they were going to kill you."

"I get feelings. I don't need proof," Jack said. "I did the smart thing. I always do the smart thing if people fuck with me. That's probably something you should remember."

Probably. But I won't.

"You work pretty hard at not letting people get close," I observed.

"I've been with lots of people," she shrugged. "If you're asking about a boyfriend or girlfriend, no. It's a waste of time and it never works. You let someone get that close, it just means they need a shorter knife. Lonely and alive works just fine, thanks."

That was fairly nihilistic, but I couldn't exactly disagree with her. My social life usually involved trading bullets instead of barbs, and my romantic life was nonexistent. If I'd been through what she'd endured, I'd probably do the same thing, only by choice instead of by accident. Guess there are worse things in life than having the universe laugh at you.

"Fair enough," I said. "Talk to you later."

"Wait," Jack demanded. "My turn with the questions. People usually walk by now. Why are you really asking these things? You eyeing me up? 'Cause if this is about sex, maybe you should just fucking say so."

Despite the fact that she had only recently started covering up, that was actually the last thing on my mind. I don't know if that was chivalrous or sad. "I'm not looking for that," I replied.

Jack shook her head in confusion. "I don't get you. You don't want anything, but you keep coming around. And you did a lot to help me..." Jack started before shaking her head again. "Shit, I'm not good at this soft stuff. Just... thanks, okay? Let's... let's get back to work. Maybe we'll talk later. Maybe not."

I understood what she meant. When you think about it, the hard choices that everyone always talks about, like killing or dying, are actually quite easy to make.

It's the soft stuff that's hard.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Apart from the shock and disgust Shepard was likely feeling after hearing such horrific abuses, this conversation took place shortly after the Illusive Man asked him to investigate the Collector ship with incomplete intelligence. As a result, his feelings towards the Illusive Man were likely at an all-time low.<em>

_(2): Something that he had never done with the Council when first inducted into the Spectres, despite his long-held ambivalence towards them._

_(3): During the 1980s, batarians introduced foreign, industrially-mutated plants to Pragia, hoping to take advantage of its fertile volcanic soil to create a breadbasket that could yield agricultural surpluses. However, the synergistic combination of these plants, Pragia's geothermal conditions and chemotropic microbes created mutant plant strains that quickly overgrew colonies in days, and were often poisonous or carnivorous. Indeed, Alliance ecologists predict that Pragia's soil will be depleted of nutrients by the late 2500s as the planet's natural fauna is incapable of keeping this plant growth in check. Currently, its isolation and lack of population attracts criminals, terrorists and intelligence agents. _

_(4): I thought the Alliance's first program to train potential human biotics—Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training (BAaT)—was a disaster. Cerberus's Teltin facility—with its abuse, torture and wanton disregard for ethics, safety or life—was clearly much, much worse._

_(5): Jack never explained what this guard was stopping her from doing, or if she did, Shepard never mentioned it. _

_(6): 'Psycho Killer,' released by The Talking Heads in 1977. _

_(7): Unfortunately, files during that period of time are not detailed enough to determine who amongst the depressingly large number of slaver survivors were in fact children who suffered at the hands of this Cerberus project. _


	22. Anybody Home?

_Author's Note: I wanted to take the opportunity to address a few questions that have come up. _

_First, I haven't finished Mass Effect 3. I don't even have it—thanks to concerns and issues with TPTB (EA, not the Council) and a certain little thing called Origin. _

_Second, I do have some thoughts on doing something for ME3, but nothing concrete. If BioWare doesn't create a more satisfying ending than the "options" they gave us, then I'll decide whether to tweak one of the choices into something more palatable or just revamp the whole thing. Having said that, I already have plans for a few fanfics/novelizations that will take place between ME2 and ME3, so I have time to figure something out. _

_Third, by the time The Hero We Deserve is over, Shepard will be involved with someone (hint: we've already met her). I'm sure we'll all agree that it's about damn time!_

_Now without further ado, let's throw Shepard into harm's way. Again._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: Anybody Home?<strong>

After helping Jack out with her personal demons, I thought I could have a little time to, I dunno, mine a planet or something. No such luck: TIMmy had once again used his influence—and command codes—to override the Normandy, locking her down until I deigned to chat with him. He wasn't exactly waiting for me with bated breath, though. Nope, when the holographic connection stabilized, I was greeted by silhouette lighting another cigarette.

Clearly he knew his priorities.

He inhaled. Then he exhaled. Repeat. Then he turned to me. _"_Shepard," he said without preamble, _"_we caught a break. I intercepted a distress call from a turian patrol. They stumbled onto a Collector ship beyond the Korlus system. The turians were wiped out, but not before they crippled the Collector vessel."

Say what?

"I need you to board that ship and get some hard data on the Collectors. Find us a way to get to their homeworld."

"Hard to imagine how a turian patrol could take out a Collector ship," I snorted.

"Reports indicate the hull's intact, but all systems seem to be offline," TIMmy explained. "They could be making repairs as we speak. I'm not saying it won't be dangerous, but we can't let an opportunity like this slip by."

"If the turians had a patrol out there, shouldn't we be worried about them sending a recon team in or something?" I asked.

"They will," TIMmy shrugged. "Eventually. But I intercepted the transmissions. In the meantime, we're feeding them false reports. You're close enough that you can be in and out before the turians learn the truth."

This seemed way too good to be true. "Are you sure this intel is good?"

"Information is my weapon, Shepard," TIMmy reminded me. "It's good."

Oh I feel so much better. Still, he had a point. If there was a chance we could score some intel, I had to at least try. "Send me the coordinates and I'll take care of it," I sighed.

"Already sent."

Of course.

"Once you're aboard the ship, establish an uplink with EDI," TIMmy told me. "She'll mine their data for information regarding the Omega 4 relay and the Collector homeworld."

'She?'

"Good luck, Shepard."

"_Coordinates punched in," _Joker reported as I left the comm room. _"Let's go find us a Collector ship."_

"Try not to sound so eager," I replied wryly.

Little did I know how true those words would be.

* * *

><p>It didn't take us long to arrive at the coordinates TIMmy sent us. I arrived on the command deck just as we left the Korlus system.<p>

"We have a visual on the Collector ship, Commander," Joker reported, hearing my approach. Sure enough, the Collector ship was there. It was just lying there in the middle of space, slowly twirling around.

"Very low emissions," EDI reported. "Passive infrared temperatures suggest most systems are offline. Thrusters are cold."

"That thing's massive," Joker gasped. He turned around and stared at me. "How the hell did the turians take it out?"

They didn't exactly take it out, but Joker had a point. The ship was huge. Most of the ship consisted of a set of large, slightly overlapping plates, faintly resembling a cross between organic chitin and the irregular surface of an asteroid. A more technological-looking superstructure radiated outward like a space station's framework—or a spider's web. It looked like someone had created a giant version of one of those particle beam weapons that I swiped back on Horizon and tacked on a set of engines. It definitely dwarfed the Normandy in size. Maybe the Collectors were compensating for something. All I knew for sure was that I was starting to feel that painfully familiar tingling feeling at the back of my neck.

I simply offered a wordless shrug. Joker turned back to his controls and steered the Normandy towards the Collector ship. We watched for the next few minutes as the ship loomed in the viewscreen.

"Ladar scans do not detect any hull breaches on the side currently facing us," EDI informed us. "I detect no mass effect field distortions. It appears the drive core is offline."

"Time to go," I said.

"We'll reach the drop-off point in three minutes, Commander," Joker told me. "Good luck."

I went down the elevator to the hangar, where I joined the rest of the squad in the shuttle. We left the Normandy and flew towards the Collector ship, searching for a place to dock. The 'docking bay' we settled on looked more like... well, a cave. Sensors indicated that there was no atmosphere, so we all donned our helmets and double-checked the seals before disembarking.

"Love what they've done with the place," Garrus said dryly.

Jacob looked around in confusion. "Weirdest looking ship I've ever seen," he finally said.

I had to agree with him. The corridor we were in looked more like a cavernous tunnel than the corridor of a proper starship. Harsh yellow light blazed from glowing recesses in the walls and bulbous structures in the ceiling that looked disturbingly like a membranous egg sac. The only thing that looked faintly familiar was the metallic-looking bulkheads and floor panels, which lined the corridor at irregular intervals. Still, the Collector ship seemed to resemble the Collectors and their weapons—a warped, yet seamless, blending of organic and technological elements. It wasn't so much built by the Collectors as it was _grown_. I found myself wondering how they did it. Did the Collectors construct a technological framework and somehow grew the rest over the 'bones'? Did they have some sort of egg that hatched and evolved into this giant hybrid? It was really weird and creepy and alien and _other_—just like the Collectors—and yet... I dunno... Part of me found it really cool.

I was the only one who thought that way, as it turned out. "Unusual ship design," Mordin observed. "Hard to track lines, angles. Disturbing."

Huh. So I wasn't the only one who found this ship unique. Now, that might not mean much coming from a grunt like me. But a genius with ties to the STG and the renowned salarian intelligence network? That counted for quite a bit more.

Miranda summed it up best: "Looks like a giant insect hive."

She was right. The irregular bumpy layers of the walls did look like something a bug might build. Or secrete.

"Am I the only one freaked out by this?" Kasumi asked.

"Oh, I am definitely past freaked out," Tali shuddered.

"_Penetrating scans have detected an access node to uplink with Collector databanks,"_ EDI broke in before anyone else could reply. _"Marking location to your hardsuit computer."_

"Got it," I acknowledged, getting down to business. "Anything else?"

"_I have compared the Collector ship's EM signature to known profiles,"_ EDI replied. _"This ship is the same vessel you encountered on Horizon."_

"Maybe the defence towers softened it up for the turians," I speculated.

"Then the missing colonists might still be aboard," Garrus said. "_If_ they're still alive."

I caught a motion out of the corner of my eye. Swivelling in that direction, my sniper rifle was halfway up before I realized it was Miranda. She'd taken the initiative to scout a couple hundred metres ahead with Grunt and had evidently found something. As the rest of us joined her, we looked at what they'd found.

Pods. Lots of them.

"These are the same containers the Collectors used on Horizon," Miranda said. "Only these are empty."

"It must have been _horrible_," Tali gasped. "Trapped in these pods. Helpless."

Even Grunt shuddered. "Small, like my tank," he remembered. "Bet they begged for mercy."

We moved around a corner, sidestepping some oily liquid that was dripping from the ceiling, only to stumble across something even more disturbing: a pile of dead bodies. Now, dead bodies aren't new to me. I've seen plenty in my career—occupational hazard. But at least most people make an effort to bury the dead. Or cover them up. Or if they can't be bothered, at least they leave them on the ground. They didn't make the deliberate effort of dragging all the bodies to one place and dumping them one on top of the other. You could tell that the ones on the top were the freshest, simply because they were still more or less intact. As the eye scanned downwards, though, they became increasingly decomposed. At the bottom, it was hard to tell where clothing ended and skin began. Or how many corpses were lying there.

It was official: this ship and what was going on in it was no longer cool. It was just wrong. Wrong and screwed up on so many levels.

Thane bowed his head. "These poor souls," he whispered.

"Why the fuck would the Collectors just leave a pile of bodies lying here?" Jack asked.

"Must have been used for testing," Garrus guessed. "I'd say they didn't pass."

"Test subjects from control group," Mordin agreed. "Discarded after experiment was over."

"There are worse things than death," I realized, flashing back to when I got spaced. Seemed like another lifetime. "Like being some guinea pig for twisted aliens."

"It is important to seek whatever solace we can find in the face of such tragedy," Samara advised.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Miranda asked, looking paler than usual. "Because it didn't."

"This galaxy never gets any brighter, does it?" Zaeed rasped.

I silently motioned for the squad to continue. We passed more empty pods as we crept through the dank tunnels of the ship, some with dead humans piled around them. There were odd structures scattered along the path, like trees with bulging growths erupting along its branches or webbing with...

Rather than follow that line of thought, I noticed that our surroundings were starting to change. The walls and floors were looking more like the gray stony layers of a cave than the yellow-brown hive we saw earlier. And there were more bits of machinery scattered around, including some sort of terminal. I headed towards it, automatically grabbing a few items of loot along the way.

I established a connection between the terminal and the Normandy using my omni-tool. "Done," I announced.

No one answered. They were too busy staring at the pod to my right. There was someone in it. But it wasn't human.

"That's a Collector," Miranda frowned. "Were they experimenting on one of their own?"

"EDI," I said. "I'm uploading the data from this terminal. See if you can figure out what they were up to."

"_Data received,"_ EDI replied. _"Analyzing."_ There was a brief pause. _"The Collectors were running baseline genetic comparisons between their species and humanity."_

"Are they looking for similarities," I asked, peering at the Collector.

"_I have no hypothesis on their motivations,"_ EDI answered. _"All I have are the preliminary results. They reveal something remarkable: a quad-strand genetic structure, identical to traces collected from ancient ruins."_

Miranda gasped. I looked at her in confusion. "Care to fill us in?" I invited.

EDI answered before Miranda could recover. _"Only one race is known to have this structure, Shepard."_

"And that race is..." I prompted.

"_The Protheans."_

...

Holy shit.

"I thought the Protheans vanished 50 000 years ago!" I marvelled. "I can't believe they still exist."

"_These are no longer Protheans, Shepard," _EDI corrected. _"Their genes show distinct signs of extensive genetic rewrite. The Reapers have repurposed them to suit their needs."_

"This... this is kinda hard to swallow," I admitted.

"_Given that no one has had an opportunity to study a Collector genome in this detail, your confusion is understandable," _EDI said. _"I have already matched two thousand alleles to recorded fragments. This Collector likely descends from a Prothean colony in the Styx Theta cluster." _

That made sense. I dimly remembered finding some Prothean data disks on one of the planets in the Styx Theta cluster when I was wandering around looking for Saren.

"_But there are signs of extreme alteration,"_ EDI continued. _"Three fewer chromosomes. Reduced heterochromatin structure. __**(1)**__ Elimination of superfluous 'junk' sequences."_

"So the Reapers didn't wipe out the Protheans," I summarized. "They just stripped out the genes that weren't being expressed, turned them into monsters and enslaved them."

"No species should have to suffer through that," Garrus said.

"Agreed," I nodded. "Just remember: as sad as that might be, they're working for the Reapers now. And we have to stop them."

"They're not doing to us what they did to the Protheans," Miranda vowed.

"Let's find what we need before the Collectors come to salvage this vessel," I said. "Move out... hello. What's this?"

There was a small cache of weapons next to the terminal. Most of them were broken, but there were a few intact guns. One in particular had caught my eye.

"M-98 Widow Anti-Materiel Rifle," Jacob identified. "39 kilograms of sheer killing power."

Mmm... killing power...

"Designed for use against military-grade armoured vehicles."

Mmm... vehicles...

"Or krogan."

Mmm... krogan...

"Looks like this one's been scaled down so a human can carry it."

"And fire it?" I asked hopefully.

"Doubt it," Jacob shook his head. "The recoil would be so strong, your bones would shatter."

Damn.

"An unmodified human, perhaps," Miranda frowned. "But Shepard... the process used to revive you involved extensive modification of your skeletal structure and muscles to make them significantly stronger and more durable. Furthermore, I understand you have been adding a few upgrades of your own."

"Yep," I simply confirmed, rather than going into details. I didn't want to bore everyone to tears at how freaky it was to die on the original Normandy, not to mention coming this close to pushing up daisies the last time we tangled with the Collectors. **(2)**

"Then your bones may be able to withstand the stresses that would come with firing the Widow," Miranda said.

Woohoo!

"Or they might crack anyway," Jacob added doubtfully.

"I'll think about it," I decided, replacing my Mantis sniper rifle on my back and scooping the Widow up. "Let's get going."

* * *

><p>The next area we moved into looked more like the weird hive that we saw when we left the shuttle. Brown, bumpy textured walls and ceilings... Strange yellow lights... Pods scattered everywhere...<p>

"Look—on the ceiling," Garrus suddenly said. "More pods."

He was right. There were more pods hanging from the ceiling, or jutting from the upper walls. Tons of them. I suppressed a shiver.

"There must be _hundreds _of them," Kasumi gasped.

"Agreed," Mordin nodded after a quick estimate. "Wonder how many are full."

"Too many," I muttered.

"I detect no signs of life in the pods, Shepard," EDI told me. "It is probably the victims inside died when the ship lost primary power."

Great. Trapped in a dark pod, dangling from the walls or the ceiling along with all the other captors, slowly getting sleepy as the air ran out. Boy was this a cheery mission or what?

I led the squad up a ramp or slope and into another meandering tunnel, picking up some salvage along the way. This place really did resemble a cave system or giant hive, so I was almost surprised when we came across a computer console at the base of another ramp. For the heck of it, I stepped towards it and started playing around. Most of what I found was gibberish, but I did come across something that might have been a useful upgrade... or a recipe for lamb stew. On the off chance that it was the former, I downloaded the specs.

Just as we started heading up the ramp, Joker contacted us. _"Commander, you gotta hear this."_

"Okay," I said. "Hit me."

"_On a hunch, I asked EDI to run an analysis on this ship."_

"_I compared the EM profile against data recorded by the original Normandy two years ago,"_ EDI explained. _"They are an exact match."_

My eyes widened. "The ship we're exploring just happens to be the same ship we encountered on Horizon _and _the same ship that attacked the original Normandy? That _can't _be a coincidence."

"_Something about this doesn't add up, Commander,"_ Joker agreed. _"Watch your back."_

After clambering up the ramp, we emerged into... well, let's call it a cavern. A _huge _cavern. Rock-like walls. Organic protrusions slithering over every surface. And...

Holy shit.

"Keelah," Tali breathed.

"Son of a bitch," Zaeed swore.

And I thought the room I saw earlier had lots of pods. This was lots. Of. Pods.

"They could take every human in the Terminus Systems and not have enough to fill these pods," Miranda whispered.

"They're gonna target Earth," Jacob concluded.

"Greatest concentration of humans in Citadel space. Most likely choice," Mordin nodded.

"Not if we stop them," I said. I turned around, trying to figure out where to go next. Something metallic caught my eye. It was a metal bulkhead jutting out of the organic walls, leading off to my right. Seemed as good a direction as any.

So why was the back of my neck starting to tingle?

As we followed it, we saw more technological elements. Bright blinking lights. Floor panels that actually looked artificial in construction. Tubes that ran down the walls. And some sort of hexagonal platform.

"There—on the platform. Looks like some kind of control panel." Garrus pointed to a set of chest-high walls. A set of holographic green hexagons hovered over the middle one. Looked like a control panel to me, I had to say.

Jack was looking around and around, even spinning on the spot. "Where the hell are the bodies from the crew?" she finally burst out.

"Lack of Collectors, alive or dead, seems odd," Mordin nodded.

"Careful, Shepard," Samara warned. "Something doesn't feel right about this."

No kidding, I thought uneasily. We slowly stepped onto the platform. Nothing happened. We walked over to the control panel. Still nothing. So while the squad covered me, I started working some computer magic. "EDI?" I said after a moment. "I'm setting up a link between you and the Collector ship. See if you can get anything useful from the data banks."

"_Download commencing. Data mine in progress, Shepard,"_ EDI replied after a moment. _"Please stand by."_

We waited.

"_Uh... that can't be good,"_ Joker said, just before we heard something powering down on the Normandy. A second later, one of the tubes made a loud clanking noise. We could see something inside it move up, as if a piston inside was retracting. Then another. And another. Tube after tube repeated the same process, each as noisy as the next.

Uh... that couldn't be good either. I activated the comm again, ignoring the tingling that was erupting along my neck. "Everyone's all right over here, Joker," I said. "What just happened?"

"_Major power surge,"_ he replied. _"Everything went dark, but we're back up now."_

"_I managed to divert the majority of the overload to non-critical systems,"_ EDI added. _"Shepard, it was not a malfunction. This was a trap."_

Aw, crap.

We heard another clank. This time, the platform shook under our feet.

Before any of us could think about getting off the platform, it started rising up in the air with a whirring noise. It slowly spun around as it ascended, which made it just a little hard to keep our balance. "We need a little help here, EDI..." I called out, trying not to fall on my ass.

"_I am having trouble maintaining the connection,"_ EDI said. _"There is someone else in the system. Please stand by."_

With a loud screech, the platform came to a halt, hovering in the air. Half the squad toppled over. While the other half helped them up, I looked off in the distance and saw two more hexagonal platforms approaching fast. For the first time, I could see that there was a column protruding from the base, making it look like some kind of synthetic mushroom. More importantly, I could see movement on that platform. Peering through my sniper rifle, I saw one of them had two scions, their bulbous blue sacs pulsing and throbbing. The other was carrying three or four Collectors, excitedly chittering at each other. Wonderful.

"Incoming!" I hollered.

"_Connection re-established,"_ EDI said as we scrambled for cover. _"I need to finish the download before I can override any systems." _

Great. "Then you'd better get it done fast, EDI," I replied grimly.

It looked like the platform carrying the Collectors was going to dock with us. Either that, or crash. Either way, I assigned each team to a Collector. Rather than join Team One in unleashing a world of hurt, I pulled out my new sniper rifle. Time to see what it could do—preferably to my enemies and not my bones. I cloaked, aimed, breathed out and fired.

To my delight, the bullet punched right through the Collector's barriers, drilled through its carapace and exploded its buggy little head.

"Oh _baby_, where have you _been _all my life?"

Judging by the quick looks everyone gave me, I said that out loud. Nobody actually said anything, though, concentrating more on drawing first blood before Harbinger or other reinforcements showed up.

"_Forty-one percent complete,"_ I heard EDI say over the din of fire.

"Come on, EDI," I urged. Off in the distance, I could see another platform swoop in. "Speed it up."

"We are Harbinger."

Aw, crap.

Harbinger's first attack somehow knocked me out of cover, collapsing my shields in the process. I stumbled around, trying not to trip over anyone, and found myself right in the middle of a biotic shockwave from one of the scions.

My vision blurred almost immediately, reducing events around me to a dim, blood-tinged haze. Through the mass of red that threatened to drag me into darkness, I could hear the pounding of my heartbeat and a faint din of gunfire. Somehow I managed to stumble back into cover without taking any more hits. Unfortunately, once I ducked back down, I realized my hands were empty. I must have dropped my sniper rifle in the middle of the platform. Even worse, Harbinger was on the move, sending the minion it possessed on a kamikaze run.

Engaging my cloak, I grabbed my submachine gun—figuring it was better for dealing with barriers than the sniper rifle anyway—and stood up. Sure enough, a couple bursts of gunfire drained its barriers and took a chunk out of its armour before my cloak shut down. Taking a chance, Mordin leaned out to fire off a bolt of plasma. He paid for his gamble—while it did reduce Harbinger to a pile of glowing cinders, it also exposed him to a scion's attack. I watched with alarm as it sent him careening into the floor of the platform, knocking him unconscious. It was then that I realized he wasn't the only one—Tali and Kasumi were also down for the count. Biting back a curse, I ordered the squad to start targeting the scions.

"_Eight-four percent,"_ EDI said as the first scion went down. My shields started to regenerate.

"EDI! Get us out of here!" I shouted.

"_I am simultaneously fighting Collector firewalls in over 8000 nodes,"_ EDI replied. _"I am tasked to capacity." _

Wonderful.

"Watch out!" Miranda called out.

I turned to my left in time to see another platform dock with ours. It had another trio of Collectors, one of whom was in the process of transforming into a certain glowing avatar we all were starting to hate and dread. Harbinger casually lifted an arm and launched a burst of energy into Jack, knocking her out in a heartbeat. The only good thing was that she wasn't sent flying off the platform.

Aw, crap.

"Everyone on Harbinger," I heard Garrus yell.

"Snipers, try to take out the other Collectors," Miranda added.

Snipers. That included me. I dove for my sniper rifle, grabbed it and rolled to my feet. Swivelling on the spot, I aimed at a Collector whose choice of cover inadvertently exposed itself to my line of sight, belatedly activating my cloak as weapons fire smacked against my shields. One down. Turning to see where the enemies were lurking, I saw the second Collector go down for the count. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harbinger on the warpath.

Miranda quickly turned on it with her biotics before spraying it with gunfire. It lifted an arm to return the favour. Thankfully, Miranda managed to jump out of the way before its attack hit her.

Unfortunately, that meant I got hit instead. My shields blinked out immediately, along with my hearing and most of my vision. As a gushing sound deafened my ears and a blood haze descended over my eyes, I dimly saw something in front of me. Instinctively, I flung my arm up, aimed it in the general direction of the figure I glimpsed and pressed a button_._ Hopefully, I didn't just fry one of my squad mates.

My hearing and vision came rushing back in time to see Harbinger collapse on the floor, flames enthusiastically burning through it. I staggered back behind cover, deciding to take a breather while the squad finished off the scion.

"_Shepard, you must manually re-establish my link to the command console."_

Good idea. Regain control before more company shows up. After making sure that everybody had regained consciousness and hadn't suffered any injuries that their hardsuits couldn't handle, I quickly swept through the platforms for thermal clips. I was surprised to see that three or four platforms had docked with the one we had initially found. In all the hustle, I hadn't realized that that many had showed up. After a minute, I gave in to my paranoia and jogged back to the command console. Using my omni-tool, I accessed the console.

EDI's avatar popped up above the green hexagonal holograms. _"I have regained control of the platform, Shepard."_

I've never been happier to see an AI than at that moment. _"I knew you wouldn't let us down, EDI."_

"_I always perform at optimal capacity,"_ EDI replied. I wasn't sure if it was speaking matter-of-factly or modestly. Before I could decide, I felt a shudder under my feet as EDI engaged whatever mechanism controlled the platform's flight capacity and got it moving again. "Did you get what we needed?" I asked.

"_I found data that could help us successfully navigate the Omega 4 relay,"_ EDI confirmed. _"I have also found the turian distress call that served as the lure for this trap. The Collectors were the source. It is unusual."_

"What do you mean," I said suspiciously, the tingling at the back of my neck suddenly coming back.

"_Turian emergency channels have secondary encryption,"_ EDI explained as the platform docked with some kind of tunnel. The AI brought up a bunch of graphs and data charts as it continued. _"That encryption is present, but is corrupted in the message. It is not possible that the Illusive Man would believe the distress call was genuine." _

My eyes narrowed. "Why are you so sure?"

"_I found the anomaly with Cerberus detection protocols. He wrote them."_

"_He knew it was a trap?"_ Joker sputtered. _"Why would he send us into a trap?"_

"That son of a bitch sent us right into Collector hands," I spat, slamming my fist into my hand in frustration.

"And here I thought I'd had my betrayal and attempted murder for this year," Garrus sighed.

Most of the squad had looks of anger or resignation on their faces. Even Jacob, though his mouth had dropped. **(3)** As for Miranda... well, to say she looked shocked would be an understatement. "There has to be some other explanation," she insisted. "The Illusive Man wouldn't do this to us. He... he just wouldn't."

"_Uh... Commander,"_ Joker interrupted. _"We've got another problem. The Collector ship is powering up."_

Aw, crap. "I told you not to be so eager?" I sighed.

"_I didn't mean it," _Joker protested. _"Honest! Look, you need to get out of there before their weapons come online. I'm _not_ losing another Normandy!"_

Hindsight's always 20-20. If I had known that things would have gone to hell in a hand basket, I would have dropped by the Citadel to see if the supplies needed for Garrus's big guns had arrived yet. **(4)** For now, all we could do was make a run for it and hope for the best. Even if that would never happen, judging by recent events.

"_I do not have full control of the Collector ship's systems,"_ EDI warned. _"I will do what I can to render assistance. Sending coordinates for shuttle extraction."_

"Come on," I told the squad. "Let's move."

* * *

><p>We went down a tunnel, trying not to jump at every shadow. Even the sight of a med-kit didn't cheer me up, as I was busy watching for an ambush. Not that I didn't pick it up, mind you.<p>

"_Around the corner, take the door on your right," _EDI directed. The indicated door hissed open a second later. Moving through it, we found ourselves jogging down another tunnel into a chamber cluttered with metallic bulkheads and consoles. I managed to snag some salvage just before my HUD lit up like a Christmas tree.

As Collectors started flying in, I quickly directed the squad to start disabling their barriers so we could yank them into the air, set them on fire or drill holes into their chitinous hides before Harbinger showed up. Almost worked too—we had whittled them down to two Collectors when one of them started glowing. Miranda had the presence of mind to focus on the other Collector and detonate its barriers, clearing the way for me to roast the sucker.

Then it was all twelve of us against Harbinger, who was still a fair ways away from us. It had time to retort that we were merely damaging its 'vessel,' before we shut it up.

Well, until we ran into another small swarm of Collectors.

"I will direct this personally," Harbinger declared as it manifested itself. Again.

Fine, I decided, but it would be directing things solo. "Target the others unless you don't have a choice," I quickly ordered.

The squad began dropping enemy barriers one by one, with the Collectors quickly following. Harbinger managed to get in a couple blows, and even tried to advance at one point, but we managed to drive it back. It didn't take long before its barriers were drained and its armour started to take some serious damage. We were just about to finish it off before reinforcements arrived.

If I wasn't keeping a paranoid eye on the HUD, I might've missed them. They were sneaking along an elevated walkway on our left, obviously attempting to flank us. "Company on our left," I called out. "Team Two, move forward and take down Harbinger while you're at it. Team One gets first dibs on the late arrivals."

While Team Two complied with my orders—which also got them out of harm's way—we started attacking the latest wave of Collectors. One of them had that fancy particle beam weapon and tried to blast Team Two, but failed. Thane sent a biotic blast at it, but only drained half of its barriers. Miranda finished off the rest so I could incinerate its ass, while Grunt collapsed another Collector's barriers with a concussive round. As soon as my omni-tool recharged, I set that one on fire too. Meanwhile, Team Two had found a new spot from which to attack the Collectors. It seemed both teams were doing well, despite the fact that our enemies had the advantage of height.

To my surprise, Grunt jumped to his feet and ran towards Team Two, roaring all the way. I thought at first that he'd finally lost it.

Then I saw a weird looking husk charging towards Team Two, a couple Collectors close on its heels. It bore a startling resemblance to all the husks I'd seen before, only it was glowing red. And it was on fire. **(5)** As I watched, Grunt ran right into the fiery husk, which promptly blew up in a fiery explosion. Grunt reeled back, steadied himself, then charged towards the Collectors. Shrugging, I let Grunt and Team Two have fun with those guys. We had our own Collectors to deal with.

"I am assuming direct control."

As if I needed another reminder of impending doom. Thankfully, Harbinger only had a pair of Collector flunkies backing it up. Kasumi and Samara used their weapons to chip away at its barriers, while Miranda, Thane and I took down the other Collectors with a combination of biotics and plasma. As the second Collector turned to ashes, Harbinger launched a barrage of biotic attacks. Most of them splashed harmlessly against the barricade we were hiding behind. One of them, however, had an extra power boost or something that somehow drained my shields to a sliver of energy and sent me staggering out into the open.

I immediately dove back into cover, tightly gripping my Widow anti-materiel rifle. My mind raced as I debated whether it would be worth delaying shield regeneration so I could engage my cloak and snipe a target. Perhaps it is fortunate that the squad finished off the last of the Collectors before I could come to a decision.

Breathing a sigh of relief, we quickly scrounged for loot. I suppose I could say that we were trying to find an exit, but that would be a flimsy excuse given that EDI was still sending directions to our hardsuit computers.

"_I am opening a door on the far side of the room," _EDI informed us as we hopped down to a ledge that overlooked a large chamber. On either side, there was a ramp that curved down to the floor below. I found myself on edge, though, as the back of my neck had suddenly started tingling again.

Sure enough, a pair of husks loped through that very door. To make matters worse, a giant praetorian—well, they're _all _giant, but you know what I mean—swooped in from some other part of the chamber.

Aw, crap.

"Team One on the praetorian," I snapped. Everyone jerked their heads up in unison, looked in the same direction and uttered a blistering stream of curses simultaneously. Some of them were quite inventive. I lifted my Widow rifle up, changed my mind and tried to swap it for another weapon. Then I remembered that I still had my Mantis rifle on my back, so I reached back, yanked the Mantis rifle, tossed it aside and shoved the Widow into my sniper rifle slot. Then I pulled out my Collector particle beam weapon, musing that I should really find a less wordy name for that weapon. "Everyone else keep the husks and everyone else off our backs," I added before pulling the trigger.

As my particle beam weapon sent a stream of energy to start carving away at the floating monstrosity, I glimpsed Mordin and Zaeed sending a bolt of plasma and an inferno grenade sailing towards the husks, with the rest of Team Two pouring gunfire into the moaning zombies. All I could do was stare and hope that the squad could deal with them—I had to concentrate on dealing as much damage to the praetorian as possible before it got close enough to start dealing a world of hurt. Thankfully, it didn't take long before both husks were destroyed and we could all concentrate on the praetorian. The giant floating super-husk was still way too far away for my sensors to get a bead on how it was faring. All I could do was hope that we could deal as much damage as possible.

Eventually, it got close enough for my sensors to start getting some readings. I was reasonably pleased to see that all our concentrated weapons fire had seriously weakened some of its front armour plates. I was less pleased to see it suddenly glow with biotic energy, slam down on the ground, send out a biotic shockwave and recharge its barriers.

I was definitely unpleased to see a pair of Collectors and another husk come charging in to join the fun.

Cursing to myself, I considered our options. Staying put was a no-go: if the Collectors and husk didn't flank us, the praetorian would soon fly over head and start blasting us with its particle beams. Moving _towards _the praetorian was suicide, as we'd never survive long enough before killing it. That left one option—and no, it wasn't curling up in a fetal position and rocking back and forth.

"We're moving down the right ramp to take on the Collectors and the husk," I yelled. "Team Two move first." As Garrus's team headed down, Miranda and Thane took out the Collectors' barriers while I melted off the husk's armour. By the time we ran down the ramp ourselves to escape the praetorian, the latest batch of newcomers had been dealt with.

Unfortunately, that came with a cost: the husk had gotten close enough to swipe at Mordin. He'd turned the husk into ashes, but not before getting hit. His vitals were all right, so I guessed that blow to the head just knocked him out.

Aw, crap.

I didn't have any more time to check on Mordin, as the praetorian was floating around the corner. Leaving him behind, as lugging his unconscious body around would slow us down too much, we quickly ran for the other ramp. Hopefully the praetorian would focus on the rest of us scampering around and ignore Mordin.

As we darted for the ramp, hugging the nearby wall as much as possible, we occasionally paused to hurl some biotics, let loose a concussive round or fire a quick burst of gunfire. Anything to whittle down the praetorian's barriers so we could get another crack at its armour. Maybe we'd be able to find a weak spot. Maybe we'd have a chance to hit the weak spot we'd created earlier. I really wasn't in a position to be picky.

By the time we had gotten to the other ramp, the barriers were down to a sliver. As I tightened my grip on my particle beam weapon, I noticed Kasumi leaning out to fire another shot from her submachine gun, which collapsed the praetorian's barriers. Unfortunately, she left herself vulnerable to an attack from the praetorian's particle beams, which blazed out from its eyes, smashed through her shields, smacked against her hardsuit and propelled her straight into the wall.

Aw, crap.

Then it turned towards me.

Aw, crap—

Its particle beams stabbed towards me, piercing through my shields and chewing through my hardsuit. All that energy, not to mention the sheer physical impact, was definitely wreaking havoc, judging from the blazing agony that coursed through my body and the blurred, hazy vision that I experienced within seconds.

It took me a second to realize that the scream of pain I was hearing was coming from my big fat mouth.

Instinctively, I activated my cloak. Apparently it couldn't detect me, as it turned away from me and opened fire at the next available target. Taking advantage of its distraction, I fired my particle beam at it. I only got six seconds of grace before my cloak shut down and the praetorian turned its attention back towards me, but the barrage of gunfire from the squad managed to make another notable dent in its armour. As it lifted off and started flying towards us, we ran up towards the ledge and partway down the other ramp—to keep it as far away from us as possible.

We passed Tali's slumped body as we ran for dear life. So _she _was the closest one to the praetorian, and became its next target when I cloaked. Sadly, I didn't even have time to feel any guilt, as I was too busy worrying about my vulnerable hide—my hardsuit was so busy administering medi-gel, it hadn't started regenerating my shields.

By this point, the praetorian was slowly making its way up the ramp, which meant that it was out of our line of sight. Using my HUD, I selected squad members in groups of two or three to attack it with whatever they had. "Hit-and-run attacks only," I warned as the first group—Miranda and Grunt—headed off. The last thing we needed was another member to get knocked out. At least, I hoped that was all that would happen.

We spent the next minute or so reducing its barriers bit by bit, and retreating down the ramp as it floated towards us. Just as it rounded the corner, we made a mad rush for the other ramp. I motioned for some of us to hold off on our attacks while everyone else focused on the praetorian and its barriers. Then I watched in anticipation as the barriers got weaker and weaker and...

...NOW!

Miranda and Thane sent their biotics detonating against the praetorian's armour in unison, milliseconds before my plasma blast and Zaeed's inferno grenade exploded across its face. I got a tight grip on my particle beam weapon and pulled the trigger, adding its energy to the barrage of bullets that were hammering at the giant floating ugly. A tight grin tugged at my face as my sensors finally picked up a weak point in the praetorian's armour. Didn't know whether it was a pre-existing weakness or one we'd created. Didn't care: I adjusted my aim, finger still pressed against the trigger of my particle beam weapon. Then I saw its eyes glow.

We ducked back into cover, narrowly missing the praetorian's particle beams. This really sucked. I mean, we were _this _close to destroying the sucker. And we were lucky in that no one else had come to take pot-shots at us while we were playing tag with the praetorian. That kinda good fortune couldn't last forever, could it?

It was time for desperate measures, I decided. Activating my cloak before I could talk myself out of it, I took a few steps back into the open, sighted on the praetorian and fired my particle beam. A yellow beam of energy blazed towards the giant amalgamation of husks, crackling as it cut into the armour. As I was focused on taking this sucker down once and for all, I ignored the shimmer as my cloak shut down, the twin blue streams of energy that stabbed at me and the status display on my HUD as my shields dropped like a rock.

Needless to say, we all cheered when the praetorian disintegrated in a conflagration of blue light. That included Mordin, Kasumi and Tali, who had recovered just in time to catch the fireworks.

We scrounged for thermal clips—during which I managed to find a spare set of power cells that slightly offset the amount of ammo I'd used up taking down the praetorian—before heading for the door EDI opened for us. Unfortunately, it slammed shut just as we were on our final approach.

I activated my comm. "EDI? We've got a problem here."

"_A temporary setback in Firewall 3217,"_ EDI explained helpfully. _"Rerouting commands through Firewall 7164."_

Um. Sure. Whatever.

A hissing sound caught our attention. Turning around, we saw another door open. EDI, no doubt. Sure enough, our AI updated us on the situation a second later: _"I have successfully opened a door on the opposite wall. I will keep it open as long as I can."_

We were sprinting for the door before she finished the first sentence.

* * *

><p>The door led us along a narrow tunnel into a chamber that looked fairly familiar. I wasn't the only one who thought so.<p>

"Down there," Garrus called out quietly, pointing to our right. "That's where we came in."

Looking over, I saw a bunch of consoles and pods down below. It looked like the room where we discovered that the Collectors were actually re-engineered Protheans. Unfortunately, we couldn't jump down without breaking something.

"We must be getting close to the end." I could swear that Miranda was breathing a sigh of relief as she said that.

Can't blame her: it was encouraging to recognize how close we were to the extraction point. It was even more encouraging to find some salvage that I could loot and a tech upgrade that was just asking to be swiped. Almost too good to be true, I started to think.

I guess I wasn't too surprised when another swarm of Collectors showed up as we entered another large chamber. Disappointed, sure. But not surprised. I think I was still a bit numb from surviving the tangle with the praetorian.

Miranda and I managed to take down a Collector before Harbinger popped up. I glimpsed Thane crushing the barriers of another Collector as Harbinger finished manifesting. Mordin raised his omni-tool to launch a volley of plasma fire, but abruptly switched targets to a pair of those red-glowing husk abominations, destroying the armour on one of them. Jacob immediately yanked that guy into the air. Apparently it didn't like that, because it promptly exploded, taking out the other abomination with it.

I was fine with that, to be honest. We really had to focus our attention back on Harbinger and the remaining Collectors. As I watched, two more of them bit the dust. That left one Collector, who was toting a particle beam weapon, and Harbinger. Garrus fired a concussive round into the former, which dealt a significant amount of damage to its barriers. I directed Zaeed and Mordin to finish the Collector off while everyone else hammered away at Harbinger's barriers. Silly guy was standing out in the open, just asking to be taken down. Given how much grief it had caused us, we were more than willing to oblige.

As soon as its barriers were down, I sent some plasma fire streaming towards Harbinger. A few more shots and another fireball from Mordin, and Harbinger was down for the count.

While the squad took a moment to catch their breath, I looked around. It looked like this entire chamber was split up into three levels, with ramps connecting each one. "Team One, we're going up the ramp to our right. Team Two; follow the ramp that Harbinger and his buddies tried to head down."

After the chorus of affirmatives, we all headed out. Team One ran into a trio of Collectors within a minute, one of whom was already in the process of transforming into Harbinger. Judging by the gunfire and explosions in the distance, Team Two had encountered similar obstacles. Miranda and Thane disabled the barriers on the other Collectors, allowing me to burn one to a crisp while Samara levitated the other. While Kasumi amused herself filling that Collector full of holes, the rest of us concentrated on Harbinger, who seemed content to lob biotic bombs at us from a distance. Guess it didn't see the need to get up close and personal. Not that I'm complaining—it meant dealing with him much easier. It wasn't long before we broke through its defences.

"We are not finished," Harbinger said defiantly before its latest body disintegrated.

Judging by the silence, Team Two was also in the clear. "Garrus? Sitrep," I called out over the comm, seeking confirmation.

"_Hostiles all destroyed. No casualties or injuries."_

"Looks like the chamber curves around to the left towards the exit," I said, consulting my HUD. "Team One will move that way along the uppermost level. Recommend you stay on your level and follow us."

Garrus knew what I was getting at. _"Maximize our firing lanes while staying close enough to support each other," _he replied. _"Copy tha—watch out!"_

Harbinger was swooping in, having already possessed one of the many Collectors that were suddenly buzzing around. Oddly enough, I found myself quite calm about the whole thing. Maybe the novelty of seeing Harbinger again and again and again was wearing off. Maybe I was numb from all the near-death encounters I'd experienced in the last hour, which was excessive even by my standards. **(6)** Whatever the reason, I found myself calmly directing the squad's use of biotics, concussive rounds, fireballs and other tricks. Barrier after barrier crumbled under our onslaught, causing Collectors to succumb one by one to death by plasma or mass gunfire. Even Harbinger, for all his retorts and threats, didn't last long.

That left one more threat in the immediate vicinity, according to my HUD. A scion, as it turned out. Thankfully, it was far, far away and didn't have any backup, so we had an easy time chipping away at its armour until the misshapen lumbering mass disintegrated. Then we headed out the exit and down a tunnel, which looked almost organic with its undulating, tubular walls. Reminded me of biology class back in the day. Oh, for the good old days when the most stressful thing was facing the dreaded Final Exam.

"_Uh, Commander,"_ Joker suddenly broke in. _"Hate to rush you, but those weapons are about to come online."_

Aw, crap.

"_Might want to double-time it,"_ he suggested. _"You know, so we can leave before they blow the Normandy in half."_

"Understood," I replied crisply. "You heard Joker," I said to the squad once Joker got off the comm.

"Speaking of hearing," Kasumi frowned. "Do you guys hear that?"

We all strained our ears. There was definitely something up ahead. Several somethings, judging by the way my HUD lit up like a Christmas tree. And we definitely heard something that sounded like...

...moaning?

Aw, crap.

A couple dozen husks charged around the corner and bore right down on us. We immediately started pelting them with biotics and fireballs, frantically backpedalling in the process. Anything to blast through their armour so we could start damaging them. Samara levitated the closest one into the air. It flailed its arms briefly, then stopped. As I watched, Samara's biotic field dissipated and the husk dropped to the ground. It didn't get up, however, and it quickly got trampled by its buddies. Grunt landed a concussive round on another, knocking it off its feet. That one didn't get up either.

"Knock them off their feet," I yelled, suddenly figuring it out. "Biotics, concussive rounds, anything."

It's a sign of their desperation that the squad automatically obeyed. **(7)** As it turned out, I was right: for whatever reason, the husks died or shut down or whatever as soon as they were knocked off their feet. We still had to retreat all the way back into the chamber where we'd last faced Harbinger and the other Collectors, but it meant that the mass of enemies we faced were reduced from a horde of moaning, drooling cybernetic zombies into a more manageable threat.

As soon as the last husk was down, we all sprinted back down the tunnel. Moans echoed through the air as more husks showed up. To our relief, they were all behind us and we only heard them after we rounded a corner and saw the shuttle—right where we parked it.

"_We're out of time, Commander!"_ Joker piped up over the comm. _"We have to go!"_

"You heard the man—everybody onto the Normandy!" I barked, pausing long enough to snipe the closest husk. "Move!"

We all clambered back onto the shuttle, which lifted off before the doors even closed. Or before I could reach the cockpit—either EDI gave the shuttle VI some instructions or it simply took over. Of greater concern was that, as we flew back towards the Normandy's hangar bay, we could see lights turning on throughout the Collector ship's superstructure as it powered back up.

"Strap in, people," I heard Joker say as the shuttle landed in the hangar. "We're gonna make them _work _for it this time."

I forced my way past the others out of the shuttle and ran towards the elevators. By the time I got back to the command deck, I was sprinting. Gripping Joker's chair tightly, I watched as we flew away. The Collector ship was slowly turning towards our vector, a blazing light in its bow growing brighter and brighter. It fired a sizzling torrent of energy towards us, but Joker banked the Normandy just in the nick of time.

Yep, definitely resembled a giant particle beam weapon.

Joker dodged another blast. And another. And another. Each time, the beams came closer—and Joker knew it. "I can't dodge this guy forever, EDI," he cried out. "Get us the hell out of here!"

"Specify a destination, Mr. Moreau."

Oh for crying out loud.

The ship shook as the Collector ship's weapons grazed our shields. "Anywhere that's not here!" Joker yelled.

"Very well," EDI replied. "Engaging mass effect core."

I held my breath, half-suspecting that this might be it. Again. To my relief, we managed to jump to FTL, quickly outpacing the Collector ship's efforts to catch us.

Once again, we had evaded certain death.

No thanks to TIMmy.

* * *

><p>"Call coming in from the Illusive Man, Commander," Joker told me an hour later. "Figure you've got a few words for him."<p>

He was right. For once, I didn't waste time getting to the comm room.

"Shepard," TIMmy greeted me as soon as the link was established. He didn't seem fazed by the glare I levelled at him. "Looks like EDI extracted some interesting data before the Collector ship came back online."

"Cut the act," I snapped. "You set us up. And you better have a damn good reason for it."

"We needed information on the Omega 4 relay," TIMmy shrugged. "That required direct access to Collector data. It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"Agreed," I replied tersely. "But I _don't_ like surprises. Especially when _my ass_ is on the line."

"I put you at risk, yes," TIMmy conceded, knocking some ashes off his latest cigarette. "But without that information, we don't reach the Collector homeworld. And you and every other human may as well be dead. It was a trap, but I was confident in your abilities.

"And don't forget EDI," TIMmy added, getting to his feet. "The Collectors couldn't have anticipated her." **(8)**

"You could have told me the _entire _plan," I said, glaring at him again. "Even with whatever advantages we might have had, your intel was incomplete—and _that _could've gotten us all killed. You say I'm important, but you sure have a funny way of showing it."

"I needed the Collectors to believe they had the upper hand," TIMmy explained calmly. "Telling you could've tipped them off in any number of ways. Besides, I wouldn't have sent you in if I didn't think you could succeed."

Oh I feel _so _much better. "I don't risk people like that," I said flatly, crossing my arms. "There are _always _alternatives."

"You may not like being on the receiving end—neither would I—but the facts are with me. As much as we try to avoid them, these decisions need to be made."

And TIMmy was all about making those decisions for other people, wasn't he?

"But more importantly... it paid off. EDI confirmed our suspicions."

TIMmy sat back down and took a puff before continuing. "The Reapers and Collector ships use an advanced Identify Friend/Foe system that the relays recognize. All we need to do is get our hands on one of those IFFs."

"I was just on the Collector ship!" I burst out. "Why didn't you say anything about the IFF? We could have kept an eye out for the damn thing!"

"As I said, we only had suspicions. Besides, you wouldn't have had time to find and extract it," he shrugged. "But we have another option."

"Go on," I sighed.

"An Alliance science team recently determined that the 'Great Rift' on the planet Klendagon is actually an impact crater from a mass accelerator weapon," TIMmy said. "A very old mass accelerator. I sent a team to find either the weapon or its target. They found both.

"The weapon was defunct, but it helped us plot the flight path of the intended target—a 37 million year old derelict Reaper."

Whoa.

"We found it damaged and trapped in the gravity of a brown dwarf."

"So this derelict Reaper's floating around a star that didn't quite make it?" I summarized.

"Simply put, but accurate," TIMmy nodded. "Brown dwarfs are gas giants that don't quite have the mass of stars. Expect gale-force winds and extremely high temperatures. The Reaper has a mass effect field that keeps it in orbit. Likely an automated response to the external threats. It's stable, but I won't call it safe."

Call me crazy, but I've never associated Reapers—sleeping or otherwise—with safety. "I saw what Sovereign did to the Citadel Fleet," I reminded TIMmy. "Hard to imagine anything could stop something _that_ powerful."

"This vessel is a relic from a battle waged while mammals took their first steps on Earth," TIMmy replied. "There's no trace of the species that took the shot. Perhaps it was their one moment of defiance before being wiped out."

"I get the feeling this isn't going to be a simple 'swing by and pick up our package,'" I guessed.

"We lost contact with Dr. Chandana's team shortly after they boarded," TIMmy admitted.

Surprise, surprise.

"Initial reconnaissance revealed no clues and it was too risky to commit more resources—but now we need that IFF."

Yeah, I guess we do.

"I'll forward the coordinates to Joker," TIMmy said. "In the meantime, I suggest you tell your crew I didn't risk their lives unnecessarily. It will make things easier going forward."

Right. I'll just drink the Cerberus punch and say everything's right as rain.

Not.

* * *

><p>I got on the comm and told the crew that TIMmy deliberately withheld information to lure the Collectors into a false sense of security because the intel's potential value outweighed our safety. Yeah, it wasn't exactly what TIMmy suggested, but it's not as if I was gonna lose any sleep over it.<p>

At my request, EDI contacted the squad members and told them to assemble in the comm room so I could give a more detailed debriefing. Most of them couldn't be bothered. Only Miranda, Garrus, Jacob, Mordin and Tali showed up.

"So the Illusive Man didn't set us up," Jacob scowled as I finished my summary of my chat with TIMmy. "Could've fooled me."

"Lied to us. Used us," Mordin said, pacing back and forth. "Needed access to Collector data banks. Necessary risk."

"Keeping us in the dark was not 'necessary,'" Tali retorted.

Miranda and Garrus stayed quiet; the former because she was probably still reeling from the fact that TIMmy sent us into a trap, the latter because he didn't have anything new to contribute and figured someone needed to keep a cool head.

Speaking of which, I let out a heavy sigh. "Personally, I don't see why he couldn't have warned us beforehand," I agreed. "I'm sure we could have given a convincing performance." I was still a bit peeved at TIMmy, so I decided to change the subject before I said something I would regret. "But we've got other things to worry about for the time being. EDI, are you sure this IFF is going to work?"

EDI's avatar had been hovering in the middle of the table since the meeting began. "My analysis is accurate, Shepard," it replied. "I have also determined the approximate location of the Collector homeworld based on navigational data from their vessel."

EDI's avatar was replaced by a galactic map. A set of cross hairs swept across the galaxy, eventually stopping at...

...

The hell?

"Is that..." Garrus started.

"That can't be right," Miranda frowned.

"Better run the diagnostics, Joker," I called out. "Looks like our AI's got a bug in the software."

"My calculations are correct," EDI replied—somewhat stiffly, I thought. Guess I hurt its feelings. "The Collector homeworld is located within the galactic core."

"Can't be," Jacob objected. "The core is just black holes and exploding suns. There are no habitable planets there."

"Could be an artificial construction," Mordin suggested. "Space station protected by powerful mass effect fields and radiation shields."

"Do the Collectors have that kind of technology?" Miranda asked.

"The Collectors are just servants of our real enemy," I reminded everyone. "And we've all seen what their masters are capable of."

"They built the mass relays and the Citadel," Garrus nodded. "Who's to say they can't build a space station surrounded by black holes."

"That explains why nobody's ever returned from a trip through the Omega 4 mass relay," Tali realized.

"The logical conclusion is that a small safe zone exists on the far side of the relay," EDI agreed. "A region where ships can survive. Standard relay transit protocols would not allow safe transport. Drift of several thousand kilometres is common and would be fatal in the galactic core. The Reaper IFF must trigger the relay to use more advanced, encrypted protocols_."_

"At least we got something out of this mess," I said. "Still, just because we can follow the Collectors through the relay doesn't mean we can take them out. I don't want to go after them until I know we're ready."

"Sooner or later we need that IFF," Jacob protested. "I say, why wait?"

Miranda shook her head. "It's a derelict Reaper. What if the Collectors are waiting for us? We may want to build up our resources and strengthen the Normandy before we take that kind of risk."

"Granted, but there will _always _be another upgrade we can research or another person we can recruit," Garrus argued. "We'll never be 100% ready. Besides, I highly doubt the Reaper IFF will be a simple piece of 'plug-and-play' hardware. Even if we work around the clock, we'll probably need time to install it onboard the Normandy."

"And what about all the colonists that have been abducted?" Tali asked. "Who knows what the Collectors might be doing to them."

Her words would come back to haunt us. Having said that, if I had to redo this whole debacle, I probably would have made the same choice again. Even knowing what I knew now. Especially since it turned out that most of my squad had their own personal issues that needed addressing. "We won't be helping them or ourselves by rushing things," I said after a moment. "We'll check the derelict Reaper out soon, but not now."

"It's your call, Commander," Jacob nodded. "Whatever you decide, we're with you."

* * *

><p>After that meeting, I made a quick round of the ship. Most people had the usual 'Good job' or 'Glad you made it.'<p>

Others were pretty shocked at the truth behind the Collectors. Crewman Goldstein always pictured them as regal beings, not giant bugs. Hadley felt it was a sad end for such an influential species, to which Matthews speculated whether the keepers on the Citadel were once something different.

And then there was Kelly. "You had me so worried when you were trapped on the Collector ship," she said, running up to me when I came back from the cockpit. "Thank goodness for EDI."

"The Normandy crew delivered," I waved her comments off. "Including you."

"You're too kind," Kelly smiled. "We were there to help, but EDI gets the credit this time. The Illusive Man made sure EDI was installed for this mission. Now I see why."

I'll give her that: EDI really came through this time. Even if it was just a result of the programming. If it wasn't for EDI, we would never have gotten off that platform, we wouldn't have gotten through the Collector ship after the Collectors sprung their trap, and we certainly wouldn't have gotten any of the intel we needed. Much as I disliked the omnipresence of Big EDI, there was no denying that the AI saved my ass (and the asses of my squad).

So when I got back to my quarters and discovered that the surveillance feed from the camera I left behind had been restored yet again, I re-routed the signal to the live broadcast of the annual Ben Burtt Robotics Convention.

It was the least I could do.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Heterochromatin is a form of DNA packaging associated with functions such as gene regulation and the protection of chromosome integrity. This is due in large part to its dense and compact packaging, which makes it less accessible to proteins that would normally bind DNA or associated factors, thereby rendering such regions inactive or repressed. <em>

_(2): Perhaps his willingness to undergo further modification was a combination of the fact that he had already received genetic enhancement upon enlistment into the Alliance, his determination to survive encounters with adversaries of a calibre similar to the Collectors, and his acceptance that accepting these changes did not compromise his self-identity. _

_(3): Shepard never explains whether Mr. Taylor looked angry or resigned to the revelation of his employer's betrayal. _

_(4): Readers may recall that Mr. Vakarian had acquired copies of the specifications for the Thanix Magnetic-Hydrodynamic Weapon, which would have significantly increased the Normandy's offensive capabilities. However, the Normandy's fabrication systems were unable to replicate the needed components. Shepard had ordered those components to be covertly shipped to the Citadel, so his crew could receive them and assemble the weapon system during the Normandy's next stop. Unbeknownst to Shepard, those supplies had not yet arrived. Small comfort at the time, I am sure._

_(5): Shepard would subsequently classify this latest husk modification as an 'abomination,' for the simple reason that it 'sounded like a good name at the time.' _

_(6): Actually, according to the time-stamps on his hardsuit recordings, the various battles and firefights only lasted thirty-eight minutes. _

_(7): Naturally Shepard ignores the more likely possibility that he had earned the squad's trust, at least where battlefield matters were concerned. _

_(8): It is interesting to note how the Illusive Man anthropomorphizes the Normandy's AI, something that the crew would not do for several months to come._


	23. Personnel Report: Grunt

_Editorial Note: In this personnel report, Shepard examines his relationship with Grunt, one notable for a particular aspect that sets it apart from his interactions with other squad members—past and present. _

**Personnel Report—Grunt**

I've never had to babysit anyone. Growing up as a spacer kid, I got shuttled from station to ship to ship to station to ship. Hard to build up the babysitting credentials when you're here one month, gone the next.

So I was a little worried about what to do with Grunt. Wrex gave me some experience in dealing with people who were head and shoulders above everyone else on the Normandy. But Grunt? I practically popped the guy out of the womb—albeit a steel and glass one. I didn't know whether I had to teach him anything, how to teach a krogan to be a krogan or whether to force my own kleptomaniac-skewed human beliefs down his throat. **(1)** At least I didn't suffer any pain—the birthing kind, that is; I can still feel all that weight pressing down on me when he rammed me into the wall. Besides, from what I could see, Okeer had done a pretty thorough job on the whole Krogan 101 thing.

Of course, that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

I remember one time when I saw him. He was chuckling. So I asked what the big joke was.

"Heh... I was just... heh... just sitting here thinking," Grunt chortled. "The picture. I'm finally starting to get it. There's a tank imprint—the battle at Canrum. A dead turian. Stripped. You don't see them out of their armour much. A krogan boot on his head. And a claw hammer—under the brow plate, pulling it back, right? Eyes have gone black and you can see tension in the muscle. You can feel it ready to snap. I get it."

"Canrum isn't ringing a bell," I confessed.

"Death of Shiagur, female warlord," Grunt elaborated. "Turians killed her, so they were hunted down and made examples. Even if they won the war. It was the last push before the rebellions ended."

I was still drawing a blank. "Maybe it's one of those things where you had to be there, but I don't get the joke."

"There's no joke—it's just... _great_," he beamed. "It—it's a turian and he's being torn apart for what they did. I felt _nothing_ before, but now I get it—it was a good fight. The enemy was destroyed to punish them all and send a message. I get it. _I hate turians_. I thought you'd be glad."

The part about a good fight, destroying the enemy, winning—that, I could relate to. It feels good to win a battle. Especially after a long, trying struggle. The rest... did I really need a krogan super-soldier who thoroughly embraced such stereotypes? Was that really what being krogan was all about—mindless fighting and hating? Oh boy. Yet another headache to toss on the pile. "Have you forgotten that Garrus is a turian? 'Cause the last thing I need is for you to start something with him. I won't have trouble on my ship just because of some memory."

Grunt looked at me in confusion. "I don't hate Garrus. I hate the turians."

Huh?

"Garrus is just one turian and he's your clan. No point in ripping his face off unless he turns on me."

So turians in general are bad, but individual turians are okay? Because their affiliation with me supersedes their identity of turians-equals-bad? Okay, maybe it was still prejudice but, in the grand scheme of things, it was a remarkably sophisticated and nuanced prejudice. I guess I could live with it. So could Garrus, I'd wager, and I said as much.

"It's hate," Grunt admitted, "but it's mine. Okeer was blind and he tried to make me the same. But thanks to you, I have a clan. I'm starting to see why I should care."

I suppose that made sense. Grunt was still figuring out who he was, but he knew enough that he didn't want to blindly accept Okeer's teachings. He wanted to embrace beliefs and values because they rang true to him, not because someone else said so.

"Anyway, I'm still figuring out where I fit, but it made me laugh. Nothing else really on my mind, Shepard."

I made a mental note not to ask him any jokes in the future.

* * *

><p>During missions, Grunt poured his heart and soul into each and every fight. Thankfully, he kept the berserk suicidal charges to a minimum, and never at any point that threatened the safety of the squad. Thinking back, I do remember him glancing at me several times during our first couple combat situations. In hindsight, he was probably a bit surprised by my passive—by krogan standards—approach to combat. He may have also pondered whether it was a mistake to follow my lead. Luckily, the success rate—which still surprised me to this day—seemed to have satisfied him. At the very least, doing things my way kept everyone alive for the next fight—and with a surplus of ammo, to boot. Plus, he seemed to enjoy the numerous occasions when an adversary took a biotic blast, a fireball or a concussive round—especially <em>his <em>concussive round—in the face. **(2)**

In between missions, he spent the majority of his time in solitude. Without any company to stir up his territorial instincts—my visits notwithstanding—he was free to sift through all the memories and information Okeer downloaded. To choose what to accept, what to wrestle into submission and what to ignore. On his terms. Anything else just wouldn't be krogan, I suppose.

Of course, letting him stew over things without someone to help blow off steam wasn't necessarily a good thing.

It was Kelly who alerted me that Grunt was getting a bit restless. Which in his case meant making a mess of the Port Cargo Area instead of driving Gardner to tears with the amount of food he packed away. I didn't know whether she'd discovered that firsthand or observed via the surveillance systems scattered throughout the ship. All I knew was that she suggested—firmly—that I pay him a visit ASAP before that mess spilled out to the rest of the ship.

Sure enough, when I saw him, he was pacing back and forth restlessly. "Chambers said you're tearing up the place. Something wrong?"

"Something... is wrong, Shepard. I feel wrong. Tense. I just want to kill something. With my hands."

Grunt walked over to the window, which overlooked the hangar. I mentally calculated how long it would take for me to sprint to the exit, shut the door and seal it.

"More so than usual," Grunt continued, trembling as he tried to contain something inside, "like it's not my choice. Like I just want to... I don't know..."

He gave in to whatever urges he was feeling, lurching forward with a roar and ramming his head into the window. I suppose I wasn't surprised that it cracked. Hell, I was more surprised that it didn't break.

"See?" he said, marching up to me in frustration. "Why do that? What's wrong?"

I spread my arms out helplessly. "Okeer didn't imprint anything to help you figure this out?"

Grunt shook his head. "I see pictures of old battles, voices of warlords. But this is... a blood haze in my head. I want control. When we're moving, fighting, I focus. But here, my blood screams, my plates itch and even you are just noise! I'm tank-born. What is this?"

Some part of me—a very small, often ignored part—was still worried about his behaviour. Part of me was... well, was proud that he was trying to make sense of and control whatever was bugging him, rather than letting it turn him into a raving who-knows-how-many-tonnes of fury. Most of me, though, was curious.

"EDI," I called out, knowing it had heard the entire conversation. "Anything in your files about krogan diseases that could cause this?"

"_Cerberus has a number of autopsies on file, but nothing on a living krogan of this age and situation,"_ EDI replied. _"Krogan are reluctant to share medical records."_

"My people were defeated by doctors and labs," Grunt growled. "They will never let stuff like that leave the homeworld, Tuchanka."

"If we can't get them to send that info to us, then we'll just have to go to them," I replied. "Joker can get us to Tuchanka. Don't look surprised," I added when I saw Grunt's face. "I need everyone at their best. Besides, you're part of my crew."

Grunt almost sighed in relief. "Thank you, Shepard. I don't like this. Fury should be my choice, not some sickness."

Amen to that.

* * *

><p>I've been to several planets throughout my life. Even more once I became a Spectre. But I've never been to Tuchanka. Not until now.<p>

Wrex once described it as "Nothing but rocks, dirt and lava." Well I didn't see any lava, but I definitely saw the rocks and dirt. Krogan being who they were, they'd merrily nuked each other four thousand years ago. As a result, every single city had been reduced to ruins, mercilessly pounded and scoured by the harsh winds. At least the radiation had died down, aside from a few pockets here and there.

You'd think that the krogan camped out amongst the buildings. Well, some of them did. But not the ones we were going to see. Most of the krogan clans had ignored our hails or answered with insults. Only one of them had deigned to be helpful. Their directions led us down a large chute—whose cover was already during our initial approach—into an underground complex. While it was clearly artificial—and industrial—in design, there was an awful lot of rubble lying around. Maybe it made the krogan feel at home.

Speaking of home, we'd scarcely stepped out of the shuttle and saw that there were a couple krogan scattered around when one of them noticed me. "Stop right there," he barked, as a pair of krogan guards yanked out their pistols and pointed them at us. Krogan hospitality, no doubt. "You're Shepard," the krogan who spoke said, "of the Normandy."

He stared at me. "Yeah," I challenged, staring back. "So what?"

"The clan leader wants to speak with you," he stated at last. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then he noticed Grunt. "Keep your rutting pet on a short leash," he sneered. "Get him the Rite soon or put him down."

The what? "You know what's wrong with him?" I asked. "What he needs?"

"There's nothing wrong with him," he snorted. "Just go speak with the clan leader."

He refused to say anything else, so we left him and his buddies, went down some stairs and down into a T-shaped corridor. The right turn led to a dead end, where two krogan were hanging out. "Someday we'll get off this rock and show those turians who's boss," one boasted.

"Damn right," the other one chimed in. "Tear their scales off and let the pyjaks feast on them while they're still alive."

Turning left before they started yapping about how the salarians had wronged them too, I pretended not to notice when Garrus picked up a bit more speed. _"I have been unsuccessful in accessing local medical records,"_ EDI abruptly informed us. _"I suggest asking the local clan leader for assistance with Grunt's problem."_

"Got it," I replied as we went through a door. We clambered up an incline of rocky rubble and entered a huge cavern. It looked like a building complex that had partially collapsed, and the krogan had adapted their home to work with the resulting layout rather than investing the effort to rebuild it. Everything had a raw, primal vibe to it, but it looked awfully... I dunno, crude.

I could tell Grunt was a bit disappointed. "This is the great krogan homeworld?" he whispered. "This is the land of Kredak, Shiagur and Veeoll? This chunk of rock is barely worth standing on. Never thought I'd miss the tank."

Speaking of rock, I spotted a rocky incline that led up to a stone platform. A krogan was sitting on a crude throne or dais while another krogan walked back and forth yapping his mouth off. Several more krogan were scattered around—obviously guards, judging by their movements.

One of them stopped me when I led the squad up the slope and attempted to approach the head honcho—who, now that I was closer, looked familiar for some reason. "Halt!" the guard said in a gravelly voice. "You must wait until the clan leader summons you. He is... in talks."

He said the last words slowly, like they were unfamiliar to him. Probably because they were.

"You know what tradition demands," the krogan I spotted talking his mouth off complained in a tone that was both indignant and pompous at the same time. He was wearing a light grey hardsuit with blue piping, similar to one of the hardsuits Wrex had considered buying back in the day—just for a brief moment, mind you—before bursting into laughter. It was black with neon green piping. I still remember how much effort it took to drag him away, mostly because Wrex was too busy laughing at the sight to bother about silly things like watching where he was going.

Anyway, back to the Giant Pompous Windbag. **(3)**

"Clan Urdnot must respond," he was saying. "Your reforms will not go unopposed. You risk appearing weak at a critical time."

The clan leader, who looked awfully familiar, was hardly concerned. In fact, he looked bored out of his skull. In fact...

...in fact, he _did _look like...

I leaned closer to get a better look, attracting his attention. He took one look and jumped to his feet.

It _was _him!

"Shepard," Wrex breathed.

"Good enough?" I asked the guard sarcastically. The dope didn't hear me; too busy giving himself whiplash by alternating looks of disbelief between me and Wrex.

Wrex shoved GPW out of the way. Not having nearly enough muscle to accomplish the same feat, I squeezed between the guard who'd blocked my path and another guard. Politely, of course.

I watched with a mixture of joy and dread as Wrex approached me. Joy because, well, it was Wrex. Dread because he was moving with such enthusiasm, I was afraid he'd try to give me a hug. Or a backslap. Either of which would probably snap my spine—reinforcements or not. So I had another reason to grin like an idiot as he positively grunted with happiness and pumped my hand instead. "Shepard!" he cried out in joy, sounding almost overcome with emotion as he clasped my shoulder. "My friend!"

He took a step back, calmed down and gave me a quick once-over. "You look well for a dead man, Shepard," he said approvingly, sounding a bit more like himself. "Should have known the void couldn't hold you."

"Wrex," I beamed. "Looks like you've done well for yourself. Clan leader? Again?" **(4)**

"No one else wanted the job," Wrex snorted.

"That and the fact that helping me destroy Saren and the geth gave you bragging rights," I added. "Now aren't you glad we didn't have to kill each other on Virmire?"

He laughed. "You made the rise of Urdnot possible. Virmire was a turning point for the krogan, though not everyone was happy about it." That last point was with a pointed glare to GPW as he walked back to his throne. "Destroying Saren's genophage cure freed us from his manipulation," he continued. "I used that to spur the clans to unify under Urdnot. When I'm done, we will be one people again."

"You abandoned many traditions to get your way," GPW interjected. "Dangerous."

Wrex wheeled towards him, narrowing his eyes. Then he head butted him, knocking the big lug over on his ass.

"Speak when spoken to, Uvenk," he rumbled, looming over GPW. "I'll drag your clan to glory whether it likes it or not."

As Wrex resumed his seat on his throne, I couldn't resist smirking at GPW. He glared at me. Hee, hee.

"Now, Shepard," Wrex said. "What brings you here? How's the Normandy?"

My reply was short and concise: "Destroyed in a Collector surprise attack. I ended up spaced."

"Well, you look good. Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system."

"Um... yeah," I said slowly. "Humans don't have that."

"Oh," Wrex realized. "It must have been painful, then."

Ya think?

"But you're standing here and you've got a strong new ship," he continued. Takes me back to the old days. Us against the unknown, killing it with big guns. Good times."

I gave Wrex a moment to look back on all those ridiculous situations that I remembered with dismay and he obviously remembered with nostalgia. Then I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I've been a bit busy, what with being brought back from the grave and figuring out how to give the Collectors a bloody nose. But enough about me: sounds like you've got big changes ahead for the krogan."

"We are making a neutral ground where all clans are welcome," Wrex nodded. "Fertile females can be shared among clans. We will strengthen the race as a whole."

"You threaten everything that makes us strong," GPW grumbled. "It will _not_ last."

"Maybe," Wrex glared. I felt sorry for him, having to deal with this ass day in and day out. "Until then, you're lucky to be a part of it."

"How do you maintain security with so many different clans in one place?" I asked sceptically. If Wrex and Grunt were any indication, forcing so many krogan to hang out together should have led to disaster ages ago.

"Any clan willing to send in hostages can come in," Wrex explained. "No fighting inside the camp. Each clan punishes its own criminals. We stop conflicts before anyone dies. Then we present a simple choice: pay a fine and deal with your problems... or your clan is no longer welcome."

I raised a sceptical eyebrow. "That's it? Doesn't sound very harsh by krogan standards."

"Allies from other clans like what I'm doing. They help deal with sceptics. Many are eager for an outlet. Every time I've declared a clan unwelcome, my allies have destroyed them. Word gets around."

That was more like it.

"What do the women of Clan Urdnot think about this plan?" I wondered.

"It was our female clan leader's idea. The neutral area is safe and it encourages more female clans to ally with us. Attacks on Urdnot now endanger the females of _all_ clans. Even clans that want to see me dead will defend Clan Urdnot."

"Your women have their own clan structure?"

"Nothing is more valuable than a fertile female," Wrex said firmly. "We know it. They know it. They isolate themselves for their own protection. We work together to set up breeding alliances. I can hardly do anything without Clan Leader Uta's approval."

"Sounds ambitious," I noted. "How's it gone so far?"

"Better than I'd feared, worse than I'd hoped," Wrex admitted.

"It can't continue," GPW grumbled. "You are going against what makes us strong."

"I get the feeling you're not making friends," I observed, motioning towards GPW with my eyes. "Would that be the better or worse part?"

Wrex snorted. "Maybe both. Traditionalists like Uvenk are chained varren. Always fighting, guarding their pathetic stick in the mud. Doesn't matter: when the smoke clears, I will plant the flag on their corpses and rally the remaining clans around a new krogan hub."

"Sounds like you're counting on a lot of bloodshed, even after you unite."

"It will be slow," Wrex conceded, "but I won't change who we are. Krogan are judged by the strength of their enemies, no matter what clan they belong to. Our worst insult is to say someone's not worth killing."

That wasn't the first time he'd emphasized the existence of multiple clans. "Is maintaining individual clans that important?" I asked. "Not just male and female clans, but, well, you know."

"Every clan has different customs," Wrex replied. "Rites of Passage, rules of behaviour, battle songs—all unique. That diversity makes us great. No clan, not even mine, was meant to survive on its own."

"But Urdnot is the leading clan," I pointed out. "Doesn't that make your culture primary?"

Wrex shook his head. "For now. But every clan has its unique assets. The best tacticians are Urdnot. Jorgal has the longest breeding lines. Gatatog holds the oldest settlement. Others have their own strengths. We keep going how we are; the clans will end up as craters under nuclear haze. Even Urdnot. We need to rethink. Restart. _Renew_."

And _that _was why I missed having Wrex around. He tempered his overwhelming battle prowess with experience, foresight and a willingness to try new things. Hopefully some of that would rub off on Grunt. If he didn't get himself—or me—killed first.

That reminded me: "I hope that works well for your people. But to be honest, I'm not exactly here for pleasure."

"I figured as much," Wrex nodded. "We don't often allow aliens to do business on Tuchanka, but you're an exception."

I knew a compliment when I heard one and I decided to show my appreciation it by getting to the point instead of blushing. "I have a krogan on my crew. He has some kind of sickness and needs treatment."

Wrex leaned towards him and looked him straight in the eye. Instinctively, Grunt took a step forward and stared back. "Where are you from, whelp?" Wrex finally asked. "Was your clan destroyed before you could learn what is expected of you?"

"I have no clan," Grunt replied. "I was tank-bred by Warlord Okeer, my line distilled from Kredak, Moro, Shiagur—"

"You recite warlords," GPW interrupted, "but you are the offspring of a syringe!"

"I am pure krogan," Grunt growled back, quietly but defiantly. "You should be in awe."

"Okeer is a very old name," Wrex rumbled. "A very hated name."

"He is dead," Grunt told him.

"Or course," Wrex snorted, stepping down from his throne. "You're with Shepard. How could he be alive?"

Um... thanks? "I need Grunt back up to speed," I said, setting that puzzle aside for the time being. "What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing wrong with him," Wrex shook his head. "He is becoming a full adult."

"Wait, so this is a Pilgrimage?" Tali asked, scratching her head... helmet... whatever.

"Ah, puberty ritual," Mordin nodded. "Common among species with hormone-driven reproductive urges."

Garrus raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean we can solve this by taking him to Omega and, I dunno, buy him a few dances?"

"I don't care what aliens call it," Wrex replied. "Krogan undergo the Rite of Passage."

GPW couldn't take it anymore. Either that, or he couldn't stand being ignored any more. "Too far, Wrex!" he burst out. "Your clan may rule, but this thing is not krogan." With that, he stormed off.

"Idiot," Wrex dismissed. "So, Grunt? Do you wish to stand with Urdnot?"

"I'm guessing you're not worried about a 'tank-bred' krogan join Urdnot," I observed. "You don't think Clan Urdnot will share Uvenk's concerns?" I asked.

"I'm not worried about Grunt's origins, but only because he's with you," Wrex admitted. "After all, you and I killed thousands like him. Not quite as big, but many."

I glimpsed Grunt stand up a little taller as Wrex said that last bit.

"As for Clan Urdnot, they will do as I say," Wrex said confidently. "They see the benefit of my vision."

"What does the Rite of Passage require?"

Wrex shook his head. "Not for me to say, Shepard. The shaman will discuss that."

"Well, what happens if he doesn't do the Rite of Passage?"

The reply was predictably blunt. "If he was left here, he would be killed. The clanless are not respected. A tank-bred, probably more so. **(5)** His disposition is what it is, rite or no. That's just him being a krogan." Wrex turned his head towards Grunt and raised any eyebrow. "Okeer didn't tell you that in the tank, did he, boy?"

Grunt didn't answer.

"This is your choice, Grunt," I told him at last.

He turned wordlessly away and walked towards the edge of the dais. For several minutes he stared across the cavern. It still looked like a disaster zone. Still, I saw the way his eyes darted back and forth, occasionally pausing at certain points. I saw him noting the fortifications that seemed imbued with an impossible strength despite their crude construction—or, perhaps, because of it. I saw him gazing at each and every krogan. The ones standing guard, sitting around fires, marching back and forth. All of them going about their lives. All of them content with who they were and where they belonged.

"It is in my blood," Grunt finally said. He turned around and looked Wrex straight in the eye. "It is what I am for."

"Good boy," Wrex approved. He turned and pointed towards a balcony that I hadn't seen earlier. "Speak with the shaman—he's over on the second level." Give him a good show and he'll set you on the path.

"You too, Shepard," Wrex advised before he returned to his throne. "How many times have you stepped in a mess for your crew, hmm?"

I grinned ruefully. He knew me too well.

"We'd better go," I told Wrex. "Talk to you later?"

Wrex nodded. "Watch yourself, Shepard. Tuchanka isn't safe and homey, like Feros or Ilos."

Clearly we had different definitions of 'safe' and 'homey.' Wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

><p>Grunt was getting more and more antsy, practically quivering with anticipation as we left Wrex. For once, I decided to curb my usually insatiable curiosity and find this shaman ASAP.<p>

Unfortunately, someone had beaten me to him.

"You go beyond yourself, Gatatog Uvenk!" the shaman growled. "The rites of Urdnot are dominant!"

"How do we know they will challenge him?" GPW protested. "He's _unnatural_! The beasts of the Rite could ignore him like a lump of plastic!"

"They know blood, no matter the womb," the shaman replied. "Your barking does not help your case."

"I'll speak for myself!" Grunt interrupted, taking a step forward.

The shaman immediately surged forward, getting right into Grunt's face. "This is the tank-bred? It is very life-like." He took a sniff. "Smells correct as well."

The shaman turned to glare at GPW. "Your protests ring hollow, Uvenk."

I gave GPW a glare of my own. That was _my _lump of plastic he was insulting. "I don't care what this idiot says. Grunt has the right to be here."

"There's some fire—and from an alien!" The shaman looked scornfully at GPW. "Oh, the shame this heaps on those who whine like pups."

"If this must stand on ritual, then I invoke a denial!" GPW announced, seemingly oblivious to the slight. "My krantt stands against him! He has no one!"

I'm pretty sure the noise I heard next was the shaman grinding his teeth. "My patience is tested, but Uvenk invokes correctly," the shaman admitted grudgingly. "Grunt, who is your krantt? Your allies willing to kill and die on your behalf?"

"How is a candidate tested if he brings backup on his Rite of Passage?" I asked.

"Not every krogan can be the strongest warrior," the shaman explained, "but each must inspire his peers to battle at his side." He turned to address Grunt, who was hanging on his every word. "If the ones who know you best can find nothing worthy in you, you should wander the wastes and die alone before you weaken my clan."

"We stand with Grunt," I said firmly, replying to the shaman's earlier question, "as shipmates and comrades."

"Shipmates are not the same thing," the shaman corrected, "but I grant you aliens your simple interpretation."

GPW looked at him in disbelief. "Aliens don't know strength!" he protested. "My followers are true krogan. Everything about Grunt is a lie!"

All that krogan testosterone floating around must have gotten to me. That's the only explanation I can offer for why I tilted my head back, lurched forward and rammed my skull into GPW's.

I managed to turn my stagger into a couple casual steps back, rubbing my suddenly sore head. The three or four GPWs who suddenly stood before me gawked in shock. "You... you dare?" they sputtered.

The shaman and his identical twin howled in laughter. "I like this human!" they roared. "_He _understands!"

By this point, my vision had recovered enough that I was only seeing one of everyone—including GPW. "I withdraw my denial," he grumbled. "This will be decided elsewhere!"

With that, he left. With typical krogan subtlety, he glared at me as he departed and 'bumped' my shoulder accidentally. I wish I could say that I didn't budge an inch, but I'm only human.

"You have provoked them," the shaman said. "Reason enough for me to like you. They're your problem now."

Hoo boy. I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder in the direction GPW stormed off. "Is he gonna be a problem?"

"He is forbidden to interfere. Will he?" The shaman shrugged. "During the Rite of Passage, you must be ready for anything, Shepard. From what you've shown me, you will not disappoint."

Wonderful. "Do we need any special equipment?" I asked.

"To begin the Rite, only the candidate and his krantt are required," the shaman replied. "You love battle, don't you Shepard? The last gasp of a dying opponent?"

I plead the Fifth. **(6)**

"Bring your love of the fight to Grunt's trial and he will succeed."

"Fine," I sighed. "Tell us how this works."

Apparently, the shaman was still belabouring under the impression that I was a bloodthirsty whack job. "Still your impatience, Shepard," he chuckled. "For now, know that Grunt will be tested... and that you must adapt."

Well that was helpful. "We're ready," I said. "Let's do this."

"Excellent," the shaman grinned.

Maybe the shaman was right, I reflected as he led us away. Maybe all we had to do was go somewhere and get through some big mysterious trial.

I mean, how hard could it be?

* * *

><p>The shaman led us to a giant six-wheeled vehicle, one that could easily hold him, me and the entire squad. I suspect the roominess was part of the reason why we all stepped forward when the shaman asked us who would fight alongside Grunt. That and volunteering to be part of his krantt, of course. His eyes showed both surprise and approval that aliens—including turians and salarians—would hold a krogan in such high regard. All he said, though, was that our support of Grunt was noted. However, bringing that many people along would defeat the purpose of the Rite. He was willing to allow up to three of us to accompany Grunt, but that was all.<p>

In the end, Zaeed, Thane and I joined Grunt and the shaman in clambering aboard the transport. **(7)** It drove us along a long stretch of tunnels and up a road onto the surface of Tuchanka. We drove down a long freeway for what seemed like hours, passing through the scorched and crumbling wreckage of city after city, the winds howling away even through the thick plating of the vehicle and the rattling of the engines. At last, we came to a shuddering halt. We jumped out of the vehicle and surveyed the terrain.

The shaman led us up a steep slope. "This is Tuchanka's most recent scar," he told us, "the last surface city to fall in the rebellions. The keystone was at its heart. It has survived wars and the passage of centuries. It _endures_—like the krogan."

Grunt pushed past the rest of us and ran to the top. He looked around, turning from side to side, head whipping around as his eyes and snout and ears drank in everything. Catching up to him, I saw we were standing on a large square platform, smack dab in the midst of another ruined city. In front of us and on either side lay a small set of stone steps that led down to the streets. The winds were still shrieking away, sending clouds racing through the skies. Tuchanka's sun pierced the clouds, glaring down on us like a baleful, uncaring eye. Behind us was a large stone and metal tower. It was surrounded by a set of concentric rings and a simple set of controls at its base.

"If you wish to join Clan Urdnot, you must contemplate the keystone and its trials," the shaman said, nodding towards the monolith.

"What will happen?" Grunt asked.

The reply came almost immediately. "Who knows? You must thrive, no matter the situation. Any true krogan will."

With that, the shaman retreated down the slope. Grunt looked at me eagerly. "Let's get started, Shepard. Hit the keystone!"

"Just like that?" I challenged.

"Why not?" Grunt asked.

"You tell me," I replied.

Grunt stared at me for a moment, looked around, then glanced back at me. "Scout around," he said at last. "Look for supplies, avenues of approach, cover."

"Good," I nodded. "Let's do that."

A quick round uncovered a lot of thermal clips, power cells and med-kits—all of which we brought back to the base of the keystone. The square might be a bit too open and had multiple ways for an enemy to hit us, but it provided a fair bit of cover and unparalleled height with which to spot incoming trouble. If we had to replenish our supplies, it would be easier and safer if they were in a central location rather than scattered as caches around the area. Besides, if we had to move elsewhere, we were probably screwed. I also took the opportunity to loot a couple krogan corpses and salvage some turbine parts for creds. Just because I could.

At last, I got tired of Grunt urging me to activate the keystone—it was like some kid whining 'Are we there yet?'—and whacked the controls. Part of the tower retracted upwards, like a giant piston. As it ascended, we heard the shaman's voice boomed over hidden loudspeakers. _"First the krogan conquered Tuchanka... and mastered a natural world only we are fit to hold."_

With that, the piston dropped down into the base. A deep _BONG_ echoed out as the rock hit bottom, sending ripples across the city and out into the wasteland beyond. We all pulled out our weapons and prepared ourselves.

"Here they come," Grunt growled, lifting his assault rifle. "I'm ready."

When the varren loped up the steps, I thought I was ready, too. I sent a bolt of plasma flying towards it, burning through its natural scaly armour. Grunt planted a concussive round to send it flying into a nearby pillar, then fired several rounds into its scaly hide. Zaeed yelled out a warning about the next varren as he lobbed an inferno grenade towards the mutt. Turning to my left, I saw the varren charge towards me. He was moving too erratically for me to get a bead on him, so I waited until he got close and punched and kicked away. After a couple hits, I heard a loud crack and saw the varren slump to the ground.

By then, more varren were on the way, trying to flank us from the right. Noting that the closest one was sporting several wounds and cracked scales, I told Grunt to handle it while I let off a fireball at another varren on our right. Zaeed was quick to follow up with a burst of gunfire. Satisfied that he could handle the situation, I consulted my HUD and quickly swivelled to my left. Sure enough, there were two more varren. Thane hurled a bolt of biotics into one of them and finished it off with his submachine gun. I waited until my omni-tool recharged and fired off another fireball at the other. Fire was better than bullets when it came to these guys, I'd figured.

Unfortunately, I paid the price for my stinginess. The varren kept coming, despite the fact that flames were licking away at his scales, got a good grip on my leg and started chewing. With alarm, I watched as my shields started to drain under the pressure of his vice-like grip. I pounded away at his hide until I had enough leverage to plant a bullet in his head.

Then I got knocked over.

Rolling around, I spotted the varren who'd just jumped me. He had just enough time to growl before Grunt blew his ugly mug away with a concussive round.

"So many fleshy things to kill!" Grunt howled gleefully. "This is _glorious_!"

I stared at him for a moment, then stared ruefully as another pack of fleshy things trotted down a flight of stairs and out of another building.

Deciding to try something new, I led the team to the base of the centre set of stairs, the ones closest to the varren. Crazy, I know, but I was hoping that the varren would take the most direct route towards us rather than splitting up and pouncing on us from all sides. If so, we could concentrate our firepower.

The plan seemed to work. Using a combination of plasma and gunfire, we managed to kill several varren long before their buddies reached us. I dropped another plasma burst on a varren and turned towards another. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Grunt tackle that one—literally. Satisfied that I only had one varren to deal with—for now—my finger tightened on the trigger.

Then Zaeed tossed an inferno grenade. It landed right on top of the varren and exploded, engulfing it in superheated shrapnel and plasma. I jumped aside, but not before some of the backwash hit my shields. I watched as my shield strength dipped a bit, but not as much as they would have if the varren had its way with me.

Looking around, I saw we were in the clear, so I nodded my thanks to Zaeed. He nodded back absently, his eyes already sweeping back and forth for more varren. Taking a cue, I started looking around myself. Thankfully, my shields regenerated before the next pack arrived. And the one after that. And the one after that. It all became a blur—Zaeed, Thane and I took turns unleashing plasma streams, inferno grenades or biotics on varren, then sitting back and firing carefully-timed bursts of weapons fire. With the occasional concussive round from Grunt, of course.

Then there was a minute's peace. Which stretched out into two, then three. I guess that was it. It couldn't be that easy, though.

"The keystone," Grunt realized. "We must have to trigger it again for the next part of the Rite."

He was right. As soon as I tapped the controls, that plunger thing lifted up. _"Then the krogan were lifted to the stars to destroy the fears of a galaxy,"_ the shaman intoned, _"an enemy only we could chase to their lair."_

Once again the rod dropped, sending a loud tone echoing through the air and the ground. It sounded slightly different than the last time, I noted. Everyone lifted their weapons and started looking around.

The ground suddenly shook beneath our feet. Swivelling on the spot, I gaped at the creature in front of me. It looked like a huge snake with two pairs of wings and four large, insectile legs. The thing—which I later learned was called a 'harvester'—shrieked at us before lifting off and swooping away. I stared at it dumbly, wondering what the catch was.

"Crawlers!" Grunt called out, pointing to our left. "Come to your death!" he challenged.

There's the catch.

Turning back, I glimpsed the backs of two large bugs—klixen, as I later found out—crawling towards us. They were close enough that my plasma fire melted holes in both of their carapaces. Then we hosed them down with gunfire. As they shuddered under the impact, I felt the ground shake again. Taking a moment to glance behind me, I saw another one of those snake-like harvesters land. No doubt to drop off more creepy-crawlies. Wonderful.

I returned my attention to the bugs just as Zaeed planted a concussive round into one of them. With a flash of light, the thing exploded into flame, taking out the other bug. So sticking around as they writhed in their death throes wasn't a bright idea. Good to know.

Zaeed, Grunt and I whirled about as Thane cried out. Another pair of klixen was attacking us. A combination of my plasma fire, Thane's biotics and Grunt's concussive round killed one of them, but the other one got through unscathed. With a shriek, it opened its mandibles. A fiery stream gushed out and poured all over Thane. He lurched back, slapping at the flames that were licking away at his body, tripped over a piece of debris and toppled over a rail to the ground below. Quickly accessing his hardsuit's medical sensors, I breathed a sigh of relief: Thane was all right. Worst-case scenario: he _might _have some first-degree burns. He was just knocked out cold from the fall.

Another thud heralded the arrival of another harvester and, with it, another pair of fire-breathing combustible klixen. Clearly, staying put wasn't cutting it. Time for Plan B. I launched another wave of plasma fire at the klixen who had attacked Thane and emptied a full clip into the sucker. "Follow me!" I yelled as the bug exploded, running past its blackened remnants.

The three of us ran down the stairs and past Thane's crumpled body. Looked like he'd been knocked out by the fall. Judging by the loud shrieks and the ever-helpful sensors, there were two or three klixen following us. They were still several metres away, though, which gave me time to outline what one could laughingly call a plan: "We stay on the move. Run, turn to throw grenades or fire off plasma, maybe squeeze off a couple shots or a concussive round, then run again. Repeat as needed until they're all toast. Got it?"

"As long as we squash them, I don't care how we do it," Grunt growled.

"Then we better get moving," Zaeed warned. "Those buggers are gettin' awful close."

We immediately darted around the corner. Then we paused long enough for them to show up, fired off a merry ball of plasma, ran around a corner, planted a concussive round in the kisser, ran up the stairs, tossed an inferno grenade, ran to the other set of stairs, sent some more plasma and ran down the stairs to begin the whole cycle all over again. We'd ironed out the kinks of running and gunning by that point, so we mutually agreed to refine it by concentrating on one klixen at a time. That way, we could steadily whittle them down one by one instead of having several wounded, but still dangerous—even more so, probably—klixen nipping away at our heels.

Thankfully, the buggers weren't quite as fast as the varren. Don't get me wrong, they pursued us with a relentless single-mindedness. But as long as we kept our distance, they didn't feel the need to sprint after us. So we kept running and stopping and firing and so on, taking down one klixen. Then another.

Naturally another harvester plopped down and deposited another trio of scuttling horrors. Zaeed hurled another inferno grenade, which soared in a parabolic arc to land perfectly on one of the buggers. We waited long enough to ensure that they were chasing us, then ran around the square and started to climb the stairs.

I abruptly brought Grunt and Zaeed to a halt. According to my sensors, there was another klixen at the top of the stairs, smack in the middle of the square. Going forward would mean running right into the maw of the beast.

My instincts told me to double back. Unfortunately, they were thwarted by the pair of klixen who had just been dropped off. We were boxed in. I looked at my two squad mates.

"Head first," Grunt said.

"Huh?" I replied with all the wit I could muster.

"Head first," he repeated, tilting his head towards the square.

Consulting my sensors, I figured out what Grunt meant: the terrain limited us to two options—up the stairs or back the way we came. The former would lead us towards a lone, heavily injured klixen; the latter meant a close encounter with two fresh, relatively unscathed klixen. Not that hard a choice, given the circumstances.

Giving Grunt a decisive nod, I ran up the stairs, firing a bolt of plasma as soon as I had a line of sight. The plasma burned through its carapace, causing it to quiver momentarily before exploding. Then we ran to the other side of the square and waited for the remaining pair of klixen. As soon as they showed up, Grunt and Zaeed fired two concussive rounds in unison at the same target. I finished that one off with a quick burst from my submachine gun, then motioned for my teammates to follow me—

I briefly froze as I saw another harvester take off—having apparently missed its landing in all the excitement—leaving another two klixen in its wake. I gauged how far they were from the stairs and made a snap decision.

"Run!"

We sprinted down the stairs, hoping to dodge their flamethrower attacks. Grunt made it unscathed. So did Zaeed. Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky.

They say two out of three ain't bad. 'They' have never had their shields drained and their bodies overheated by ultra-hot flames spewed by a giant six-legged critter.

Ignoring the stars and veins that suddenly obscured my vision and the pounding that filled my ears with equal abruptness, I stumbled after my teammates. They must have realized what had happened, because they came to a halt—stepping aside so I had a clear path to weave drunkily along—and fired a couple double-taps to slow the pursuing klixen. By then, I had recovered my bearing, not to mention a second wind, so I led them around the square to the stairs. We waited until the first pair of klixen lumbered along before sending several rounds of gunfire, a concussive round, a fireball, an inferno grenade and a lot of harsh language their way. Not necessarily in that order.

"There!" Grunt cried out as he opened fire on the klixen. "Now these beasts will know I am worthy!"

The barrage successfully immolated that pair, but also bought enough time for the second pair of klixen to catch up. We immediately engaged in a tactical withdrawal across the square to the other set of stairs. By the time they made their way up the stairs, my omni-tool had charged up another round of plasma, so I sent it flying towards one of them. Undaunted, they continued lumbering our way, so we retreated down the stairs and waited. As soon as one of the klixen showed up, Grunt and Zaeed were ready with a pair of concussive rounds. The klixen shuddered under the impact, swayed and then toppled down the stairs. We hastily got out of the way as it rolled to the bottom and exploded.

There was only one more klixen left, which we finished off at our leisure. Then we ran back towards Thane, who had recovered by that point. After helping him to his feet, we started replenishing our ammo.

"Ready for another round, Shepard," Grunt grinned. "Tag the keystone."

I stared at him for a moment, shook my head, then stomped over to the damn thing and slammed my palm into the controls.

"_Now all krogan bear the genophage,"_ the shaman's voice thundered as the summoning device rose up into the air. _"Our reward. Our curse. It is a fight where the only goal is survival!"_

When the rod plummeted this time and sent ripples outward, they didn't stop. The ground kept rattling and quaking beneath our feet long after it should have stopped. "Feel that?" Grunt asked excitedly. "Everything is... shaking! Whatever is coming, I am ready."

Our first hint of the latest beastie was a pair of light blue tendrils that poked out of the ground and weaved around, slithering through the air. Maybe it was something like a thresher maw, I mused.

Then the ground exploded.

Aw, crap.

I watched in horror as the thresher maw burst out of the ground. Why did the universe have such selective hearing? I said _like _a thresher maw, not an actual thresher maw, goddamnit!

My arm automatically extended to fire off a bolt of plasma, which naturally dealt an infinitesimal amount of damage to its armoured hide. I looked around for a Mako—or a really big gun—hoping against hope that I'd somehow missed one. Failing to find any, I spat out a stream of swear words that would make Mom proud.

"Finally," Grunt exulted. "An enemy worth fighting!"

Glad one of us was happy.

Everyone was already scattering for cover, so all I had to do was relay orders over the comm. "Same tactics as the varren and the other guys we've faced," I hollered. "Just keep some cover between you and—"

I was interrupted as some acid hit me square in the face. To my surprise—and delight—my shields actually took the brunt of it. Looking up, I noticed that my chosen cover was actually a girder, which had a few holes in it. "Oh, and watch out for the acid," I added belatedly.

Zaeed tossed an inferno grenade, which landed at the same time Thane's biotics exploded against the thresher maw. It let out a thunderous roar, then burrowed back into the ground. We felt the earth shake beneath our feet. A second later, it burst out of the ground again—this time on our right.

"Now _this _is a test!" Grunt howled, turning towards the behemoth and planting a concussive round into its hide.

The rest of us were too busy scrambling for cover—including yours truly, who was now caught in the open thanks to the thresher maw's change of position—and firing blindly to respond. Thankfully for us, the thresher maw was large enough that even poorly-aimed shots stood a good chance of hitting home.

I managed to get off two plasma bursts before the thresher maw dove underground again. Frantically, I looked around, hoping to get a brief hint of where it might pop up next. The burst of gunfire behind me clued me in. Whirling around, I saw Zaeed fire off several quick shots before diving and rolling—just in time to dodge an acid spray.

Naturally, I was stupid enough to gawk like a civvie and got drenched in thresher maw spit.

As I scurried for cover, ignoring the alarms regarding my shields—or lack thereof—Thane jumped out, whipped off a bolt of biotic energy, fired a shot from his sniper rifle and back flipped behind a pillar. Not to be outdone, I leaned out, groped for my sniper rifle, missed, cursed, sent a fireball flying instead, stumbled back behind cover and almost twisted an ankle over a piece of debris the size of my fist.

Yeah. I'm _that _good. Go ahead and feel jealous if you want.

It felt like we'd been fighting this latest threat for hours, but the chronometer indicated that only a couple minutes had passed. To my surprise, we'd inflicted a surprising amount of damage during that time. Either that or my sensors were playing a cruel trick on me.

Assuming the former, I made my plans accordingly. The next time the thresher maw reared its ugly head, it met a fireball of plasma, an inferno grenade, and a biotic explosion right in the kisser. It shrieked and dove back underground. I tried to track its movements and extrapolate where it would emerge next.

Unfortunately, my guess was a bit off. I managed to snap off another fireball when it burst out, but not before it scored another hit of acid. This time, my shields drained and my hardsuit started sizzling.

Grunt glanced at me before looking at the thresher maw as if he was assessing it. Coming to a decision, he lifted his assault rifle and emptied the rest of his clip into the thresher maw before charging towards it, roaring all the way. Since I was a bit overwhelmed by the acid fumes, all I could do was cough uncontrollably and tear up.

As I watched through blurred eyes, Grunt sprinted straight towards the thresher maw. Not questioning its good fortune, it took the bait and promptly dove towards him. As it descended, jaws opening up, Grunt dropped his assault rifle and yanked out his shotgun. I managed to see him fiddling with the shotgun controls just before the thresher maw closed its jaws around him.

A second later, part of the thresher maw's head exploded.

The thresher maw instinctively lurched upwards, but the damage was done. It swayed back and forth, then plummeted down with a thunderous crash.

Gasping for air, I ran towards the thresher maw, Zaeed and Thane close on my heels. We sprinted down the stairs and towards the giant corpse. There was a large pulp of pink fleshy tendrils protruding from a small hole at the top of its head. It was quivering.

"Grunt?" I called out.

A pinkish blob popped out from the thresher maw and hopped down. It landed with a squish, rose to its feet and walked towards us, slurping noises accompanying every step. As it approached, flesh and juices dripped off it, revealing a very messy and dirty Grunt.

"Grunt?" I repeated. "You okay?"

He stopped. Looked off into the distance, eyes not focusing on anything in particular.

Then he pumped his arms up, thrusting his shotgun into the air and roared:

"I.

"AM.

"_**KROGAN!**_"

Zaeed glanced at me. "I think he's okay," he offered.

"Indeed," Thane agreed.

* * *

><p>While the rest of us searched for ammo to replenish the clips we'd used up, Grunt cleaned himself up. He'd finally gotten all the thresher maw bits off when a shuttle flew by overhead and touched down behind one of the surrounding buildings.<p>

"We have company," Grunt smiled. "Good. I want more."

He might have been jumping the gun, but the tingling at the back of my neck suggested otherwise. Sure enough, when we went around the building, we saw GPW and a couple of his cronies. Naturally, GPW was strutting around on the base of a tower, which put him a good metre above everyone else.

"You live," GPW said.

I guess being the leader of Clan Gatatog doesn't require keen observation skills.

"And you brought down the thresher maw," he marvelled. "No one has done that in generations. Urdnot Wrex was the last."

I thought back to all those times when Wrex and I bumped into thresher maws chasing after Saren. Not once did he ever mention taking one down on foot. Awfully modest of him. I filed that thought away for the time being, along the mischievous idea of ragging him mercilessly about it.

"My krantt gave me strength beyond my genes," Grunt declared. "Which are damn good."

I'm blushing. Really.

"This will cause discussion," GPW said, hopping down from his soapbox. "I wonder... you say you are pure? No alien meddling in your construction? Just the warlord Okeer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Subtle, much? What's your game, Uvenk?"

"Grunt will command much respect now," GPW replied shrewdly. "His strength may be artificial, but it is a tolerable loophole."

Grunt's eyes narrowed. "A what?" he asked suspiciously.

"A reason to accept you into my clan," GPW explained. "You are a mistake, but your potential could tip the current balance of the clans."

"You spit on my father's name!" Grunt growled. "On _Shepard's_ name! But now you stop ranting because I'm strong?"

Wrex was right: he _was _too busy guarding his stick in the mud to see what might be in front of him. Not to mention incredibly stupid: instead of seeing what might be in front of him, he insulted Grunt and tried to prevent him from performing the Rite, praised Grunt after completing the Rite with flying colours and continued to insult him. I guess being the leader of Clan Gatatog doesn't require smarts, either.

"With restrictions," GPW amended. "You could not breed, of course. Or serve on an alien ship. But you'd be clan in name."

I was pretty sure where this was going, but I wasn't sure how many thugs GPW brought with him. Two, at least, but I thought I saw a third one skulking around. I decided to buy some time. "You talk like he's a thing," I scowled. "You're after his power. You don't really want him in your clan."

"Of course not," GPW snorted. "I didn't really want to cooperate with Clan Urdnot either, but I had to. Clan Gatatog is on the verge—either of greatness or of joining the dust. I can get traditionalist support if I fight you or reformer support if I back you. Your Rite of Passage tipped that balance, too."

Three—wait, four. There were definitely four of them. I loaded up a program using my HUD, looked at Grunt, looked back at GPW and smirked. "If I know Grunt, your answer's coming at muzzle velocity."

Grunt nodded at me. "You do know Grunt. This varren is dead." With that, he banged his fists together, charged at GPW and sent him toppling on his pompous ass. GPW's cronies immediately lifted their weapons. I exchanged a wordless look at my teammates and dove for cover.

As I huddled behind a broken pillar, I hacked the comm systems of everyone in the vicinity—friend _and _foe—and started playing an old Earth tune. As we exchanged fire, the words started to blare through our helmets:

"_We're not gonna take it.  
><em>_No, we ain't gonna take it."_

Grunt fired a concussive round at GPW, which rippled off a biotic barrier—just my luck that he was a biotic as well as a pain in the ass.

"_We're not gonna take it anymore!" _

Thane ripped a hole in one of the lackey's armour plating with his biotics.

"_We've got the right to choose and..." _

Zaeed sent another inferno grenade flying at another lackey.

"_...there ain't no way we'll lose it."_

And me? I was busy swiping medi-gel and looting a corpse.

"_This is our life, this is our song!"_

What? They were a couple metres from my position. What did you expect me to do?

"_We'll fight a thousand legions!"_

Okay, they weren't exactly a thousand, but Zaeed and Thane did gang up on one of the enemy krogan, firing burst after burst from their weapons into his hide. I decided to join them with a fireball, mostly because I couldn't get a clear lock on anyone else—including the krogan who had somehow volunteered himself as a punching bag for Grunt.

"_Don't pick our destiny 'cause..."_

Zaeed and I must have had the same idea, because we both pulled out our sniper rifles and pointed them at another krogan henchman. The dope was smart enough to duck, but not smart enough to realize he'd moved right into a crouching Thane's sights. Thane's biotic attack sent him staggering to his feet, just in time to receive two headshots.

"_You don't know us, you don't belong!"_

Grunt was still enthusiastically pounding away at 'his' krogan. Deciding that he was pretty much done for, I casually lifted my arm at the last krogan stooge and set him on fire.

"_We're not gonna take it.  
><em>_No, we ain't gonna take it.  
><em>_We're not gonna take it anymore!"_

Now it was just us and GPW. Zaeed started things off with a concussive round from his sniper rifle. As GPW whirled towards him, Thane somersaulted over a boulder, hurled a sizzling sphere of biotics into GPW's barrier and hopped into a nearby crevasse.

"_Oh you're so condescending,  
><em>_Your goal is never ending.  
><em>_We don't want nothin', not a thing from you!"_

"Fear the battlemast—," GPW howled, or started to before Grunt fired a concussive round of his own into his helmet. There really wasn't much to fear from this guy. By this point, we'd pretty much surrounded him. Like a pack of wolves taking down a big stupid hunk of prey, we took turns popping out of cover and attacking him. Every time one of us hit him, he'd whirl towards that direction, giving someone else a clear shot.

"_Your life is trite and jaded,  
><em>_Boring and confiscated.  
><em>_If that's your best, your best won't do!"_

Before long, GPW's barrier was toast. Grunt and Zaeed kept him more or less in place by spraying cover fire. Zaeed and I ran in circles around him, tossing inferno grenades and sparkling torrents of hot plasma at his armour. I swear I could actually see his armour starting to melt under that relentless onslaught. Accessing my HUD, I ordered everyone to concentrate on an area between his left heart and his left shoulder. It wasn't long before that section of armour succumbed to the onslaught. Grunt's concussive round brought GPW to his knees. Then he charged at him and knocked him over.

That's when I had an idea. "Grunt! Lift him up!"

"_We're right (yeah!)!  
><em>_We're free (yeah!)!  
><em>_We'll fight (yeah!)!  
><em>_You'll see! (yeah!)!"_

He looked at me questioningly, but grabbed GPW by the collar and hoisted him into the air like one of those wrestlers you always see vids of on the extranet.

"On my mark, throw him up in the air. Thane, prep your biotics. Zaeed, help him out."

At that point, they figured it out. "Three, two..."

On "one," Grunt tossed him skyward.

"_We're not gonna take it."_

At the exact point where Grunt's herculean feat was cancelled out by gravity, Thane and Zaeed hit him with a biotic pulse and concussive round, respectively, that sent him rocketing through the air.

"_No, we ain't gonna take it."_

GPW hit a large column with enough force to crack his hardsuit and break his bones, then plummeted to the ground.

"_We're not gonna take it anymore!"_

I casually walked over and waited until GPW's eyes focused. Then I waved cheerfully at him, pulled his pistol from its holster, and emptied the clip into his head at point-blank range.

Grunt walked over to me and spat on GPW. "Uvenk is meat," he said. "Let's send a signal at the keystone to get out of here. We can leave his corpse to rot."

"_We're not gonna take it.  
><em>_No, we ain't gonna take it  
><em>_We're not gonna take it anymore!" _**(8)**

* * *

><p>Wrex himself greeted us at the keystone and escorted us back underground to Urdnot territory. He led us to the shaman and then departed, explaining that word of GPW's downfall had spread like wildfire. Clan Gatatog was under assault left, right and centre. Wrex wanted to see if he could absorb their warriors into his clan while there was still something worth salvaging.<p>

As soon as Wrex left, the shaman stepped forward. Grunt instinctively fell to his knees.

"You have passed the Rite of Passage," the shaman proclaimed, "earning the honour of clan and name.

"Many survive," he added, "but it has been years since a thresher maw fell! Your names shall live in glory!"

I didn't tell the shaman that I'd rather take a pass on the glory if it meant scraping acid residue off my hardsuit.

"Grunt, you are Urdnot. You may now own property, join the army and apply to serve under a battlemaster."

"Shepard is my battlemaster," Grunt said, still kneeling on the ground. "He has no match." **(9) **

The shaman regarded me with something that looked like respect—scary as that might sound. "Indeed," he said. "Wrex says you took down a Spectre. No small task, that—we have learned the strength of those who bear that title. You yourself once held that title, did you not?"

"Still do," I shrugged modestly, "though reinstatement of that title was given on the condition that I stay out of Citadel space. The Council prefer that Spectres keep a low profile when exercising their strength and prowess."

"Understood," the shaman nodded, a knowing—and approving—glint in his eye. "Congratulations, Urdnot Grunt," he said, changing the subject. He pulled out a datapad from his back and offered it to Grunt. Peering under Grunt's arm—there was no way I was peeking over his shoulder—I saw it contained schematics for some sort of shotgun upgrade. "Accept this token from Fortack. **(10)** His weapons are the finest we have."

"Shaman—" I stopped myself. "You know, everyone just calls you 'shaman.' Don't you have a name? What were you called before you became shaman?"

"I gave up my name when I became the shaman," he replied. "I am a conduit for the rage and bloodlust of my people. It would be wrong to retain my old identity. My life belongs to the clan."

Interesting—discarding your personal name and identity so there could be no personal pride or glory, thereby focusing your efforts and life on something greater than yourself. Something... purer.

"All right, _Shaman_: I want to know more about Tuchanka's past" I said.

The shaman smiled. "Tuchanka is a place of great gifts. It kills the weak, torments the slow and destroys the stupid. Survival is an honour, and here, krogan _thrive_! We cover this planet with our civilization, only to burn it to the ground a dozen times over. Each time we grow stronger. When we are wise and powerful enough, we will tame the planet forever."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I've never heard anyone say that wiping out their own civilization was a _good _thing."

"I'd have thought you, of all aliens, would understand, Shepard," the shaman responded in surprise. "The krogan empires and clans of the past were _glorious_, built in great battles and conquests. But their _cores _were weak. How else could they have fallen? When krogan civilization achieves its apex, there will be no stopping it. No stopping us."

"At which point, your rites and ceremonies will echo for eternity," I nodded gravely. "Which are what, exactly?"

"You have seen the Rite of Passage," the shaman said. "Krogan suffer the Rite of Life at birth... and the Rite of Honour when they wish to be considered for breeding. The Rite of Firsts is suffered before a krogan faces a new enemy. A clan leader also undergoes many rites in service to the clan."

"What rites did you go through to become chief shaman?" I asked curiously. I could make a fair guess given what we'd discussed so far, but I wanted to hear it in his words.

"Becoming the shaman is excruciating. I passed through rites that made me want to die. I carry the scars on my soul. I must perform rites each dawn and dusk to keep me bound into our krogan nature. Our spirit is one of violence and death, I must be attuned to that."

"Your job is awful," Grunt said reverently.

"Indeed," the shaman agreed in a similar tone.

Okay, this was starting to get a bit much. "I have to go," I blurted out.

"May your foes be strong enough to keep you sharp," the shaman replied formally.

* * *

><p>The adrenaline was starting to wear off, so you can imagine that I was getting pretty tired. My business on Tuchanka wasn't over, though—I still had another squad member to help and a couple shops to visit. But that could wait.<p>

Before I left, though, I decided to say farewell to Wrex. As we passed a pair of krogan, I heard one of them whisper "You hear that the tank-bred and that human killed a thresher maw?"

I pretended not to hear them, but cranked up the audio sensors in my hardsuit to listen.

"Everybody's heard. Hasn't been done since Wrex himself."

"I barely survived the maw during my Rite."

"Guess that human's got a quad."

I tried to keep that comment from inflating my ego and succeeded. Mostly.

"Still, I can't believe he took part in the Rite. You ever hear of a human serving as part of someone else's krantt?"

"Nope. Can't argue with the results, though. We'll be eating thresher steaks for _months_!"

Grunt's stomach growled. Mine had a similar response.

I told my stomach to settle down, as we were just about to head up towards the dais. Wrex was shaking his head by the time we'd reached his throne. "You just can't help making trouble," he said.

"What? You _didn't _expect me to slap Uvenk down?" I asked. "Maybe throw in a few choice words here and there to nudge things along?"

"Leave that sneakiness for the Council or the asari," Wrex scowled. "I didn't plan for your arrival when Uvenk and I were in talks. I didn't plan for him to react to you like that. And I certainly didn't plan for you to take him out."

"I believe you," I reassured him. "Though I'm sure you won't be shedding any tears over Uvenk's demise."

"Hell no," Wrex chortled.

"Just one question: when you sent us over to talk to the shaman, did you have any suspicions that Uvenk might be over there as well? Any at all?"

The scowl returned on Wrex's face.

"I dunno," I grinned. "Seems kinda sneaky to me."

Wrex's scowl deepened.

"All good," I said cheekily.

Wrex shook his head and moved on: "You know, no one has killed a maw since my turn in the Rite."

"So everybody keeps saying," I agreed, casually shuffling on my feet. "I get the feeling it's kind of a big deal."

Wrex chuckled. "Next you'll tell me he's a quint and craps dark matter."

"Can't say about the first," I replied with a straight face. "Never checked. And I hope you're wrong about the second—the Normandy's pipes aren't designed to handle that."

Wrex smiled, then leaned forward and stared intently at Grunt. "Still, it's damn impressive," he admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Guess that's what it takes to replace me."

I hadn't thought about that possibility. Not that Grunt would consider that as a challenge or take him seriously, of cour—

Grunt took a step forward and stared back.

Oh for crying out loud. Really? Now?

Thankfully, the pissing contest only lasted a couple seconds before Wrex straightened up. "You are Urdnot Grunt," he pronounced. "Welcome."

I nodded in satisfaction—and relief. "I have a couple more things to do before we leave, Wrex. Don't suppose you'd be interested in coming with us?"

Wrex sighed mournfully. "Wish I could, but I need to keep these short-sighted fools in line," he grumbled.

"Figured as much," I shrugged. "Had to ask, though."

Wrex sighed again before regarding me with something that looked like respect. "Hunt well, Shepard." **(11) **

"You, too."

We passed another pair of gossiping krogan on our way to the shuttle. Or possibly the same pair we'd passed earlier. "Heard the human's going after the Collectors," one said.

"Damn," the other one chuckled in admiration. "If _I _killed a thresher maw on foot, I might sit and bask for a while. That human must love a good battle."

Oh for crying out loud.

* * *

><p>There was quite the celebration when we got back. Everybody was happy to hear that Grunt was now a man—er, well, krogan. Probably because Wrex was kind enough to send a shipment of thresher steaks to the Normandy. Mostly 'low-grade' steaks, meaning they were far from the thresher maw's salivary glands and thus weren't soaked in acid spit, but there were a few 'higher quality' steaks for Grunt.<p>

Wrex wasn't the only one thinking of the newest member of Clan Urdnot. I got a message from the shaman shortly after returning to the Normandy:

_Damn it, I hate these things. But you need to hear this._

_You're part of Grunt's krannt, and you're his leader. So keep him alive. Here, I have to stay polite, play the role. But our people are dying. Krogan have always valued survival over tradition. If we're going to survive as a people, we need your vat-grown Grunt. Okeer was a madman, but he was a madman with a plan, and that's more than most have on this ball of rock._

_So bring him back from your damn mission. My people need him. And if you all get killed, I'll piss on your graves._

_Shaman Urdnot_

Believe it or not, I got distracted with other matters, so I didn't have a chance to see how Grunt was adjusting to his new identity until the next time I did my rounds. When I saw him bouncing up and down inside the Port Cargo Area, I started to wonder if I should have checked in on him sooner.

"Urdnot Grunt," he growled with enthusiasm. "I have a clan. That makes me... it makes me _want _to fight—not just able to or needing to! And Uvenk! Killing him was wonderful! Though I wish you'd let me finish him off. I wanted to disembowel him! To tear out his spine like a trophy!"

"I thought we did this to help you control your violent urges," I said, feeling a sudden migraine coming on. "Now it sounds like it's even worse."

"No, it's not worse. It's just... I get it now," Grunt exclaimed. "My bloodlust. My battle fury—it's part of who I am, just like Wrex said! It was just delayed because I was tank-bred. Now that I know it belongs to me, and I have a place as a krogan, I like it."

Hoo boy.

"Our enemies are in trouble, Shepard," Grunt grinned. "We better not run out of targets."

"There's no danger of that," I replied ruefully. "They're practically lining up."

"Everyone gets a turn," Grunt chortled, clapping his hands in excitement. "Ha! Wouldn't want it any other way. Hey, that means I can start working through my list!"

"What list?" I asked warily.

"Didn't I tell you? I got a list of enemies now," Grunt told me proudly. "They all give me joy when I picture cutting them or crushing them. Or both. There's this one imprint, a salarian with the—what are they? Horns?—the things on his head being pulled apart. Bet it caused a generation of revenge. What is that, a few weeks for them?"

"You know," I sighed, "I kind of thought connecting with your past and discovering your roots would bring you some kind of stability."

Grunt found this hilarious. "See," he chortled, "now we're having fun! Me remembering good deaths; you with your... funny human thing you're doing. My job is to hurt things. Direction, control—that's your job, battlemaster. You're why I'm a soldier, not dead or crazed like an animal."

Regardless of what Grunt said, it was suddenly occurring to me that I might have accidentally created a monster. I decided to leave before I made matters even worse. Just as I was turning around, EDI opened a comm channel to the Port Cargo Area. _"I have intercepted reports regarding a substantial loss of political influence from Clan Gatatog following the death of Gatatog Uvenk,"_ the AI reported.

Gee. What a shame. Really.

"_In addition, killing the thresher maw has produced several breeding requests for Grunt..." _

Grunt was grinning from ear to ear again. Good for him, I thought. At least one of us might have a chance of getting some action—

"_...and one for Shepard," _EDI added.

...

The hell?

"Ha!" Grunt laughed.

Clearly the universe was enjoying a joke at my expense. Again.

* * *

><p><em>(1): At least Shepard was aware of the potential for imposing his own values on someone else; most people, sadly, wouldn't think twice. <em>

_(2): Indeed, Grunt was apparently won over by Shepard's tactical prowess in successfully executing his preferred style of combat._

_(3): Gatatog Uvenk, leader of Clan Gatatog. Yet another instance of a less-than-flattering nickname for Shepard's private use—and, no doubt, amusement. _

_(4): Before meeting Shepard, Wrex was once the leader of his clan, the youngest ever to achieve that honour. _

_(5): The familiarity with which krogan use this term suggests that they were no strangers to krogan clones, no doubt resulting from their previous efforts to replenish their numbers despite the genophage. (6): The Fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America, which protects citizens against self-incrimination._

_(7): Shepard never explains the rationale behind this team arrangement, though analysis of their talents suggests that those team members were best equipped for the challenges they would likely face on the surface of Tuchanka. Additional insights come from a log entry by Grunt—one of the few he ever submitted—concerning his opinion on the various squad mates Shepard recruited. In his opinion, Zaeed and Thane were the toughest warriors onboard the Normandy—after himself and Shepard. _

_(8): 'We're Not Gonna Take It,' released by Twisted Sister in 1984._

_(9): Traditionally, the term 'battlemaster' was reserved for krogan biotics, who were renowned for their willingness to achieve their goals at any cost, no matter how reprehensible. However, battlemasters are also renowned for being an equal match for ten other soldiers of any other species, something that definitely describes Shepard and his prowess. _

_(10): Shepard would later learned that Fortack was the current—he killed his predecessor—Lord High Researcher of Clan Urdnot. Wrex ordered him to research "things that don't explode"—such as crop genetics and medical improvements, which could be bought from the salarians—much to Fortack's dismay. When Shepard expressed surprise that he would consider accepting such technologies from the salarians, considering their role in creating the genophage, Fortack retorted that 'It's not as if they can make us _more _infertile_. _He quickly recanted that upon further consideration, not realizing that that had indeed happened._

_(11): Once again, Shepard fails—or refuses—to recognize the fact that he had earned the respect of his colleagues and friends. _


	24. Personnel Report: Mordin

_Editorial Note: In this personnel report, Shepard examines his relationship with Professor Mordin Solus. The conversations and mission contained here reveal a unique perspective on a certain pivotal event in galactic history, one whose repercussions echo to this day. _

**Personnel Report—Mordin**

I still remember Kelly's comments shortly after recruiting Mordin: "Mordin's psych profile warned of hyper behaviour, but he is like a hamster on coffee. He's going to be a very productive member of the team."

She wasn't kidding. Every time I dropped by the tech lab, he was always in the middle of some experiment or multi-tasking between multiple projects. Those experiments and projects were constantly in flux. He always had a different reason for shooing me away whenever he was too busy to chat:

"Not a good time. Trying to map contamination vectors. Requires focus. Ship-wide infection of human-tailored virus possible if I slip.

"Later better. Think I've cured Joker's condition. Simple treatment would... No, no, no, no. Would cause liver failure. Never mind. Start from scratch.

"Not now. Working on Collector data. Have ruled out artificially intelligent virus. Unless it's _very_ intelligent. And toying with me! Hmm. Tests...

"Some other time. About to test new bio-weapon. Not on us, of course. Didn't think I had to specify, but Joker got nervous."

And my personal favourite for disturbing images: "Perhaps later. Trying to determine how scale-itch got onto Normandy. Sexually-transmitted disease. Only carried by varren... Implications unpleasant."

Perhaps it is telling that the most significant project he had ever worked on was one that he didn't pursue on the Normandy and didn't talk about. Not until I asked.

It all started innocently enough, with one of my daily rounds. I had wandered into the tech lab and asked if he had a minute to talk, half-expecting him to say no. So I was mildly surprised when he put down whatever doodad he had in his hand.

"Yes. Would like that, actually. Talked about work earlier. Time with Special Tasks Group. Studying genophage.

"Wasn't entirely honest. Lie of omission. Also other kinds. Need to clear the air. Mission too important to keep secrets. Work on genophage was more than just study."

"What was the STG doing with the krogan genophage?" I asked.

"Study at first, as I said," Mordin replied. "But uncovered surprising data. Krogan population was increasing at faster rate than expected. Krogan were adapting to genophage. Overcoming disease."

That definitely caught my attention. "You sure they were adapting? Maybe they were just having a lucky year. Or fewer mercs left, meaning more krogan left to repopulate."

Mordin gave me a withering look. "Please, Shepard. Social, environmental concerns accounted for. Not an undergraduate. Population spike caused by adaptation to genophage. No other possibility."

"Did the krogan evolve? Or did some of their scientists develop a treatment?"

"Krogan scientists?" Mordin chuckled. "Hah! Never met krogan scientist worthy of term. No. Natural evolution. Krogan physiology incredibly durable. Organ redundancy, backup systems, cellular regeneration. Genophage like any other natural hazard. Krogan evolved past it."

"Well that's good news," I smiled. "The genophage was a terrible mistake. It nearly destroyed the krogan and their culture. Now they have a chance to recover."

"Naive viewpoint," Mordin disagreed, shaking his head. "Krogan too dangerous to allow unchecked birthrate. Look at Krogan Rebellions."

"So what did you do?"

"Personally led a science team," Mordin replied. "Geneticists, chemists, sociologists, mathematicians. Created new version of genophage. Released it on Tuchanka, other krogan-centric areas. Restabilized krogan population."

Well... that sucked. "You never considered other options?" I asked in disbelief.

"Hundreds. Thousands. Modified genophage offered best outcome." Mordin began walking up and down along the table he was working at, waving his arms enthusiastically. "Stabilized population. Avoided publicity that could incite krogan anger. Averted potential genocide or devastating war. Best solution for whole galaxy, krogan included."

That was awfully big of them, taking that responsibility on themselves without any say-so from anyone else like, say, the krogan. I would have pursued that avenue, were it not for my insatiable curiosity: "How did your genophage modification work?"

"Krogan attached garbage genetic code to genophage attack sites. Modification created other areas for garbage code to connect. Left sites clean, capable. Running smoothly."

In other words, the krogan evolved some epigenetic mechanism that plunked genetic junk on the DNA sites that the genophage would recognize and normally bind to—thereby preventing the genophage from attaching and working its sinister magic. Genophage 2.0 created additional sites that 'competed' with the genophage recognition sites to attract the garbage code, increasing the likelihood of leaving sites open for the genophage. Clever. Horrible for the krogan, but clever.

"How did you distribute the modified genophage?"

"Cover drops," Mordin replied. " Hospitals, clan centres, water supplies. Very difficult. Few salarians on Tuchanka. Team got caught a few times. Had to fight free. Messy. Better when things went as planned."

Right. Sterilizing the krogan again was all part of the plan. "If the krogan are so dangerous, why not just sterilize them outright?" I scowled.

Mordin seemed shocked and outraged at the idea. "Not a war criminal. Not a murderer. Genocide unnecessary. Krogan as a whole violent, aggressive. Still have outliers. Worth saving. Genophage modification protected galaxy, allowed krogan chance to survive. Everyone wins. Good for us, good for them!"

Somehow I highly doubted that. However, it hadn't been long since I recruited Mordin and I didn't want him to be shy or hesitant about 'fessing up to any more interesting sins. As angry as I might have been, the last thing I wanted at this point was to dissuade him from being honest with me. "I doubt you've told many people about this, Mordin," I said at last. "I appreciate you letting me know."

"Wanted you to know I'm willing to do what's necessary," Mordin replied. "Should get back to work. Talk more later. Next time tissue synthesis has to compile. Good for free time."

And they say that knowing is half the battle...

* * *

><p>After a frank chat like that, one might be forgiven for thinking that that summed up Mordin to a T. Ruthlessly practical, utterly and dispassionately consequentialistic, the ends justify the means and all that. But he was a bit more complicated than that, something I found out shortly after TIMmy tried to get us killed on that supposedly derelict Collector ship.<p>

He seemed quite excited when I showed up and commended me on my timing. "Made breakthrough," he said. "Can share results while next samples grow. Hate waiting for culture analysis. Never fast enough. Usually know result in advance. Just checking work. Have to be careful.

"Getting off track," he shook his head.

You don't say.

"Discovery: based on Prothean-Collector connection, can examine technology, chart Reaper species modification. Fall of Protheans."

I admit, I was hooked. "Tell me what happened," I prompted eagerly.

Mordin started immediately. "Early stages similar to indoctrination. Can guess captured Protheans lost intelligence over several cloned generations."

Made sense. All the evidence I'd seen established that prolonged exposure to indoctrination made people a heck of a lot more malleable to the point where they became increasingly incapable of doing anything for themselves other than drooling.

"Cybernetic augmentation widespread afterward. As Protheans failed, Reapers added tech to compensate. Mental capacity almost gone, replaced by overworked sensory input, transfers. Transmitting data to masters."

"Is there anything we can do to help them?" I asked.

Mordin seemed almost agitated as he answered my question. "_No_! No glands, replaced by tech. No digestive system, replaced by tech. No _soul_. Replaced by _tech_. Whatever they were, gone forever. Understand now? No art, no culture. Closer to _husks _than slaves. _Tools _for Reapers. Protheans dead. Collectors just final insult. Must be destroyed."

Something about that last bit clearly bothered him. "I didn't think you needed any more motivation than you already had to stop the Collectors," I observed.

"Enjoyed challenge," Mordin shrugged. "Saw necessity of attack on Collectors after plague on Omega. Their work, my people. Hard to care about two armies. One wins, one loses. Always work to do after. Now... have more context. See what Collectors are.

"Wasn't looking for other work before," he hurriedly added. "Don't mean to imply that. Just committed now. Won't let you down."

He'd never let me down before. Not really, unless you count dooming the krogan to extinction again, but I guess I understood his rationale. Sort of. Not really. As usual, my curiosity distracted me. "What is it about the Collectors' modifications that bothers you so much?"

"Disrupts socio-technological balance!" he burst out. "_All_ scientific advancement due to intelligence overcoming, _compensating_ for limitations. Can't carry a load, so invent wheel. Can't catch food, so invent spear. _Limitations_! No limitations, no advancement. No advancement, culture stagnates!

"Works other way, too. Advancement before culture is ready disastrous. Saw it with krogan. Uplifted by salarians—disastrous. **(1)** Our fault."

"You blame the salarians for what the krogan did?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes," Mordin nodded emphatically. "Like giving nuclear weapons to cavemen. Krogan unprepared for spaceflight, technological advance. Krogan could have evolved alone. Worked out aggression. Been ready to use new tech responsibly. Instead, salarians came. Disrupted krogan as blunt instrument against rachni. Short-sighted. Foolish."

"If you feel that way, why did you work on the genophage modification?" I wondered. "Didn't that just reinforce their stagnation, cultural or otherwise?"

"Talked before," Mordin reminded me. "Best option. That or kill them all. If around during first contact, would have argued against it. Wasn't there then. Do what I can now."

He was right. We had gone over this before and his opinion hadn't changed. What had changed was this new side of Mordin that had been revealed during this talk about how the Collectors had 'evolved.' "You said the Collectors had no art. I had no idea you cared about that kind of thing."

Mordin waved it off. "Personal interest negligible. Sang a little. Multispecies production for cultural exploration. Gilbert and Sullivan. Always had me do the patter songs.

"But not about me. Cultural artistic expression reflects philosophical evolution, interest in growth, perspective, observation, interpretation. Suspect you won't see any art in Collector base. Culturally dead. _Tools_ for Reapers. _Worse_ than the geth."

Yeah, yeah, that was nice. Fascinating really—oh, he was done. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I know that was important, but... you performed Gilbert and Sullivan?"

I don't know what I was expecting. All I know was I didn't expect him to start singing:

"I am the very model of a scientist salarian,  
>I've studied species turian, asari and batarian.<br>I'm quite good at genetics (as a subset of biology)  
>Because I am an expert (which I know is a tautology).<p>

"My xenoscience studies range from urban to agrarian.  
>I am the very model of a scientist salarian."<p>

...

Wow. That was...

...

...

Mordin coughed modestly.

Wow.

"Thanks for sharing what you've learned, Mordin," I managed at last.

"Proud to be here, Shepard," Mordin nodded solemnly. "Thank you for including me."

* * *

><p>Over the weeks and months we spent poking around in every nook and cranny, figuring out how the heck we were gonna deal with the Collectors and their Reaper masters, I became more or less accustomed to Mordin's rapid-fire manner of talking. Which came in handy when deciphering his request for a personal favour.<p>

"Shepard. Important news. Know you're busy. Have to deal with the Collectors. Planning attack. Too important to wait. Just received data, still processing, analyzing likely scenarios. Not sure how to begin. Too much intel. You remember our talk? My work on genophage modification?"

"You stopped the krogan adapation to the genophage," I summarized once my brain had caught up.

"Part of a team," Mordin added. "Scientists, all different types. Blood Pack mercenaries captured former team member—Maelon. Last seen on Tuchanka. Might... torture him. Make an example."

His voice trembled as he said those last sentences. He needed a moment before finishing: "Recovering Maelon would be a personal favour to me."

"Do you think they found out your team updated the genophage?" I suggested.

"Unclear," Mordin replied. "No way to determine until we get to Tuchanka."

By a remarkable coincidence, I had just given orders to Joker to head to Tuchanka. "Grunt is dealing with some problems that might only be resolved on Tuchanka," I told him. "As soon as we've figured out what's wrong with him, we'll see if we can find your old team member."

Mordin nodded his thanks. "Appreciate it. My assistant. My student. Want to see him safe. Maelon last seen outside Urdnot territory. Scouts might have seen Blood Pack. Talk to them or clan chief." **(2)**

* * *

><p>After celebrating Grunt's Rite of Passage, we went back to visit Wrex about Mordin's former student. He advised me to go see his chief scout, as long as we didn't take up too much of his time—Wrex needed him to maintain a constant eye on the other clans, friends and enemies alike. Especially the friends, I guessed.<p>

"Commander, it appears someone is following us," Miranda said an hour into our search for this chief scout. Something in her voice made me look at her. She was doing an admirable job of keeping the grin from spreading over her face. Having a sudden feeling that I knew who our stalker was, I looked behind us.

Sure enough, Urz was trotting along behind us.

I should explain.

You see, I didn't exactly start searching for the chief scout immediately after talking to Wrex. In fact, I'd done a bit of shopping first. During my browsing, I met a krogan merchant named Ratch. He was remarkably civil and affable—mostly because he'd actually been offworld, unlike most of his kin, and knew that aliens tended to have more creds to spend. Most of his wares were for krogan—including ryncol, an alcoholic beverage that he strongly recommended against trying, though. He did have a few weapons and equipment lying around. Plus some food that the pyjaks hadn't stolen.

Apparently these pyjaks were a foreign monkey-like species that some merchant twit had accidentally introduced from offworld. They'd established themselves on Tuchanka and had since become a nuisance. The sort that constantly stole food, ryncol and whatever else they could get their grubby talons on. I would have found some common ground with those rascals, were it not for the fact that I'd encountered them before on Eletania, attempting to recover a crashed recon probe bearing data on geth movements. One of those assholes had pried the data module from the probe and smuggled it off to some dead-end corner of a cave. By the time I'd tracked the bugger down and recovered it, the geth had caught up to us and we had to fight our way out. I later found out that said merchant had visited Eletania before coming to Tuchanka. No doubt some of them had smuggled themselves onboard.

Anyway, that previous encounter soured any attempt to regard them as kindred spirits. That, and the fact that I didn't make a habit of flinging poop everywhere. In fact, that's how the merchant got his comeuppance—one of the pyjaks scored a direct hit on a local clan leader. Apparently, Ratch told me, that was grounds for execution—and he wasn't talking about the pyjak.

In any case, it had gotten so bad that the krogan had resorted to using their defence systems to shoot the pests. I volunteered to take down a score or two of the vermin. Ratch immediately took me up on my offer. Even offered a discount if I made a large enough dent in the pyjak population.

So I shot a bunch of pyjaks. It was very therapeutic. Don't tell the Galactic Humane Society. **(3) **

After successfully reporting my results, I began shopping. I noticed that there was a varren hanging around. Had a rather unique skin colouration—pale with blue vertical stripes and a large reddish scar along one side. Bright blue eyes. Seemed quite docile—by human standards, that is. Even let me scratch him behind the ears.

On an impulse, I bought some pyjak meat—it was only a credit per fistful. "Here," I offered. "Try this."

He promptly gulped it down, then rose to his feet and panted at me.

Ratch laughed. "Looks like Urz finally found someone to follow around!"

"You mean he's not yours?" I asked.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Urz used to be a champion in the varren pit fights, until his owner got kicked offworld. Ever since, he's been moping around."

So I resumed my search, squad members and Urz in tow. Eventually I found the chief scout. "What do you want, human?" he groaned. "Wrex told me to be polite. He didn't say you were going to talk to me."

No doubt because he'd have called in sick. "I'm looking for a salarian," I said. "The Blood Pack captured him and he was last seen around here."

He turned around and consulted some computer logs. "I heard about that salarian, poor bastard. If it's Blood Pack, then Clan Weyrloc has him. **(4)** Sent one of my scouts to check it out, but he never reported back. Guess they got him, too.

"Chief told me to give you one of the trucks. Just follow the highway to Weyrloc's base, if you've got the quads to deal with him and the Blood Pack."

"What can you tell me about Clan Weyrloc's base?" I asked.

"Last I heard, the clan was holed up in an old hospital," the chief scout replied.

"That doesn't sound too defensible," I frowned. "Why'd they hole up there?"

"Any hospital on Tuchanka has to be built well enough to withstand a bunch of enraged krogan," he explained. When an injury forces us to switch over to secondary organs, things get messy. Higher thought processes don't always transition properly. 'Blood rage,' they call it."

Charming.

"I didn't realize krogan would care for their sick so much," I heard Tali whisper.

"Krogan hold hospitals in high regard," Mordin whispered back. "Consider them sites of honour."

"Anyway, I haven't seen the hospital itself," the chief scout said, not indicating whether he'd heard Tali and Mordin. "I've only seen Clan Weyrloc from a distance. If I'd gotten closer, I'd have taken a shot. You get inside, though, bring a big gun. Weyrloc's base is crawling with Blood Pack."

"Any idea what they're doing with the salarian?" I asked.

The chief scout scratched his head. Hump. Whatever. "I assumed they wanted to torture him. You don't take somebody home just to kill them. It's messy. Maybe he pissed off the Blood Pack and they brought him here for special treatment. No skin off my hump what they do with him. One less alien on Tuchanka."

"I'm feeling the love here," I deadpanned.

"Don't get your quads in a twist," he said. "If I was going to kill you, you'd know it. Wrex believes we need to unite the krogan people. I don't think we can do that with offworlders interfering. But it's not my call."

Fair enough. He wouldn't be the first person in galactic history who wanted his people to figure out their own problems without interference from outsiders and their agendas. "What's Clan Weyrloc's reputation?" I asked. "And how are they involved with the Blood Pack?"

"Tough humps," he replied to my first question. "And they're not friendly, like we are."

Meaning they'd shoot first instead of snarl insults at us.

"You ever run into the Blood Pack?" he asked. When he nodded, he continued. "Clan Weyrloc started it. One of the only gangs with an off-world presence. They're fanatics, totally devoted to Weyrloc Guld. Whatever they did with your salarian, Guld's behind it."

Krogan fanatics? Aw, crap. What had I gotten into this time? "What makes Guld so special?"

"He's got two children."

Ooh.

"One of them is a girl."

Aah.

"Some people think he's got a destiny."

"What about you?" I asked.

"Not me," he shook his head. "I had a cousin who won 20 consecutive games of quasar. Lucky bastard. I'd ask my cousin for a loan, but I wouldn't swear allegiance to him. Luck. That's all it is. Same for Guld."

That was a sensible way to look at it and I kinda liked him for it. "Don't the Blood Pack have non-krogan members, too?" I pointed out. "Like vorcha?"

"The vorcha?" he sneered. "They're just like the varren, only they can use guns and don't crap on the floor as often. The krogan are the only real members of the Blood Pack. Anyone else is just there to soak up enemy fire."

"Thanks for the information," I nodded.

"Anything that gets rid of the damn offworlders," he replied. "You can take the truck over there," he added, pointing over his shoulder.

Okay, that part I didn't like so much. I think he hurt my feelings.

"Good luck dealing with Weyrloc and the Blood Pack," he added. "You'll need it."

Maybe I felt a little better.

* * *

><p>The upside of driving a tomkah is that you're pretty much guaranteed to run over or smash through anything that gets in your way—and if you don't, you're probably screwed, so it really wouldn't matter. As expected, the scenery wasn't exactly inspiring. Bleak and boring was more like it. I got so bored, in fact, I pulled up an audio file and started playing it through my helmet's speakers. Just for fun, I used my command codes to pipe the same song through the squad channel. Perks of being the boss:<p>

_"Whooaa!"_

"_The hot summer night fell like a net.  
>I've got to find my baby yet.<br>I need you to soothe my head.  
>Turn my blue heart to red.<em>

_"Doctor, doctor, give me the news.  
>I've got a bad case of lovin' you.<br>No pill's gonna cure my ill.  
>I've got a bad case of lovin' you." <em>**(6) **

We managed to drive most of the way before a collapsed building or two forced us to disembark. The drive was refreshingly uneventful, something that didn't last long. We had only been on foot for a few minutes when we were attacked by two klixen. By now, the tale of how Grunt and the unlucky fools who volunteered to help him had passed around the Normandy enough times for the rest of the squad to know how important it was to kill them at a safe distance. Unlike that harrowing trial, we had an entire squad of battle-hardened specialists—and enough biotics and plasma to make even the most bloodthirsty krogan drool with envy. Needless to say, we dispatched those critters—and the klixen and varren we bumped into a minute later—without too much trouble.

As far as I knew, such fauna were more or less ubiquitous across Tuchanka. Their presence didn't necessarily confirm that we were heading into Clan Weyrloc territory. The pair of Blood Pack vorcha guarding an on-ramp leading up to a broken stretch of highway was another matter. Spotting the rocket launchers they were carrying, I immediately motioned for everyone to duck behind a large piece of sheet metal.

My caution proved unnecessary, as the vorcha hadn't noticed us. From the looks of things, they were too busy arguing. Shaking my head, I gave my orders: "Team One takes the vorcha on the left; Team Two gets the other one. We go in three... two... one..."

I'm relatively sure the vorcha were barbequed giblets long before our gunfire sealed the deal. Might've been a bit of overkill, but I wasn't complaining. We certainly didn't need any rockets blowing up our backsides when we ran into the Blood Pack troops guarding the highway.

Our first hint of their presence was all the barricades conveniently scattered along the highway. Our second hint was a loud snarl, which quickly turned into a high-pitched cackle. We were already taking up firing positions behind the closest cover when the third hint—gunfire—rang out.

Miranda raised her arm towards the closest vorcha, no doubt preparing to unleash her biotics. I tapped her arm to grab her attention and shook my head. "Team Two, take that vorcha out," I ordered, selecting 'Miranda's' vorcha with Team Two's tag while simultaneously aiming my omni-tool. Miranda tracked my movements, nodded and hurled a shimmering ball of biotic energy at another vorcha—one who was out of Team Two's line of sight, but not ours. My fireball hit that vorcha a second later.

"Scratch one," Garrus crowed. Looking back, I saw the vorcha I'd designated for Team Two succumb to his injuries a couple seconds before the one Miranda and I had tackled. I guess it would've been nice if _our _vorcha had dropped first, but I wasn't going to argue. There were more important things to worry about.

While the rest of us were occupied, Thane had taken the initiative to crush another vorcha's armour with a biotic assault of his own. Kasumi distracted him with several submachine rounds to the chest, buying enough time for Grunt to finish him off with a concussive round and a roar. My eyes immediately resumed scanning the battlefield, looking for the next—

"Krogan!"

Aw, crap.

Zaeed followed up that warning with an inferno grenade, which spiralled up into the air, paused, then spun lazily down to splash hot plasma on the helmet covering the krogan's noggin. Even though I knew better, I hoped that the grenade would deal enough damage to render his armour useless. No such luck. Logically, it made sense—the krogan would have authority over the vorcha and, as such, would have the right to wear better armour. Logically, the krogan's superior strength and stamina would allow him to wear better armour without collapsing.

There are times when I really, really hate logic.

"Team Two gets the krogan," I said, putting my grievance aside. Since Zaeed had spotted him first, it seemed only fair that his team got to tackle the big lug. "Team One: keep the vorcha occupied." I kept myself occupied selecting targets for my team, launching the odd fireball and snapping off a shot from my sniper rifle at an exceptionally ugly vorcha. I know, I know—that's a redundant statement.

Unfortunately, I hadn't bothered to cloak or anything, so my shot didn't actually kill the sucker. It did leave him wide open for Samara to yank him up, up and away... until the biotic field wore off and gravity kicked in. He made a very interesting squishy noise when he landed.

I was about to get up when I saw how stiff Thane's posture was. He didn't exactly tense up, but something had definitely caught his attention. "Amonkira reveals them," he muttered.

A roar rang out a second later. Another krogan—this time with a pair of pets. And by pets I mean ravenous varren.

"Right," I said, whipping off a plasma burst at the hungry dogs. "Jacob, would you kindly lift them up? Miranda, get ready; Thane, target the krogan."

Jacob used his biotics again to envelop the varren in a levitating biotic field, which Miranda exploded with her own abilities. Meanwhile, Thane hurled his own biotics against the krogan. It didn't deal a lot of damage against his armour, but it certainly bought me enough time to fire my sniper rifle. Thick-headed bugger needed a couple shots to take him down.

When I lowered my sniper rifle, I saw that all the enemies were—no, they weren't all down for the count. Two vorcha, equipped with fuel packs and flamethrowers, were trying to barbeque Tali's combat drone. They were so focused on that, they didn't notice me aim my omni-tool at the nearest fuel pack and fire off a bolt of plasma.

Once the explosions died down and the sky stopped raining shrapnel and vorcha guts, we gathered any useful thermal clips, looted what we could and got off the highway. A couple more vorcha stragglers came along bearing flamethrowers, but we all took turns stripping off their defences and blowing them up. It was really easy, considering they only had short-range weapons, we had a long corridor that provided plenty of time to react and they only came one at a time.

In contrast, the last vorcha guarding the Blood Pack base were smart enough to stay together and behind cover. None of them had flamethrowers or rocket launchers, but they were still armed and very trigger-happy.

Since Team One was in the lead, we took the brunt of the attack. We hastily scurried into whatever cover we could find. I poked my head out long enough to see that there were a dozen vorcha running around. The odds weren't that bad, all things considered. All we needed was a distraction to even the odds...

Like the fuel tank placed next to one of the barricades guarding the entrance. I opened a comm channel to the squad. "Team One, provide cover fire on my mark. Team Two, wait for my signal before advancing to cover."

I waited until the team lay down a withering barrage against the vorcha. To my delight, Miranda and Thane took the initiative to crush the armour of two vorcha with their biotics—why provide a distraction when you can provide a distraction that cripples the enemy? I tried to ignore the fact that Miranda's aim was focused on a particular portion of the vorcha's anatomy.

As soon as the vorcha were ducking, I fired off a plasma round and blew up the fuel tank. The explosion was satisfactorily loud, taking out three vorcha in the process. Behind me, I heard Team Two rush in and find cover.

"You and your distractions," Garrus chuckled after sniping a vorcha. "What is it with you and blowing things up?"

"I can't sleep at night unless I've caused a bit of property damage," I smirked, watching as a vorcha's head exploded from my own sniper rifle.

"Tell me about it," Miranda muttered. "Keeping our contacts appraised so they can provide damage control after the latest body count or gutted building is a full-time job."

Jacob was the only member of the command crew who didn't try to poke fun at me, as he was busy levitating a couple vorcha so Zaeed and Mordin had a clear shot at them. Meanwhile, Tali was using her combat drone to harass some more vorcha into a tight group, where Jack could knock them all over with a biotic shockwave. Kasumi had activated her cloak and gave some poor sucker a massive electrical jolt. She cloaked again just as the vorcha's partner whirled around. The guy had just enough time to scratch his head before Grunt ran him over.

There was only one more vorcha by the time Grunt had stepped, stomped and jumped on his target. I put him out of his misery with a shot to the head.

As usual, we collected any thermal clips we could find. I also found a combustion manifold. Wouldn't have recognized it if I hadn't talked to a krogan mechanic—two words you don't normally put together—who needed one to fix another tomkah. I decided to pick it up and take it back with me.

Then I bypassed the door's locking mechanism and led the team inside.

* * *

><p>"Reports of chief scout accurate," Mordin stated as soon as the door closed, clearly familiar with the surroundings. "Repurposed krogan hospital. Sturdy. Built to withstand punishment."<p>

"The only buildings more durable are their bomb shelters," Miranda agreed, "but most of those were destroyed in civil wars."

Kasumi turned towards Mordin. "You sound like you've been in one of these before. A krogan hospital, I mean."

"Frequently visited hospitals. Good site for genophage drops."

Jacob groaned. "I always hated hospitals."

"They aren't fun to fight through," Garrus commiserated.

"What _is _fun to fight through?" I asked curiously.

"Gardens," Garrus replied immediately. "Electronic shops. Antique stores, but only if they're classy."

He could have been serious, I suppose, in which case he had one interesting way of lookin' at the universe. Either that or he was joking, in which case I felt oddly proud. I was about to reply when I saw Mordin move towards the stairs. "That body," he said when he saw me looking at him. "Human. Need to take a look."

Following his gaze, I saw the body he was talking about and motioned for him to continue. We all clustered around the body while Mordin knelt down and activated some kind of scanning program on his omni-tool. Holographic images popped up: charts, graphs, a rotating skeleton with several areas highlighted in different colours.

"Sores, tumours, ligatures showing restraint at wrists and ankles. Track marks for repeated injection sites. Test subject, victim of experimentation."

"I don't suppose there's a way to tell who this poor bastard was?" I asked.

Mordin shook his head. "No tattoos or ID. Maybe slave or prisoner. Maybe merc or pirate. Irrelevant now. Clearly part of krogan tests to cure genophage.

"Humans useful as test subjects," Mordin added. "Genetically diverse. Enables exploration of treatment modalities."

"Wouldn't something native to Tuchanka work better?" I asked. "Varren, maybe?"

"Yes. Human experiments strictly high-level, concept testing. Native Tuchanka fauna likely used later in development stages. Wise to delay use of varren until necessary. Powerful bite."

"Are humans really that valuable?" I wondered. "How are we more genetically diverse?"

"More variable," Mordin explained. "Peaks and valleys, mutations, adaptations. Far beyond other life. Makes humans useful test subjects. Larger reactions to smaller stimuli."

"You're talking about more than phenotypic differences, right?" I frowned. "I know we can look different from each other, but it's not like we're the only ones. I mean, asari have a wide range of skin tones."

"No. Ignore superficial appearance. Down to genetic code," Mordin replied. "Biotic abilities, intelligence levels. Can look at random asari, krogan, make reasonable interpolation or extrapolation. Humans too variable to judge. Outliers in all species, of course. Geniuses, idiots. But human probability curve offers greater overall variety."

It suddenly occurred to me that this might provide another reason why the Collectors were so darn interested in us. **(5)** Not that that was why we were here, but it was worth noting for another time. "What can you tell about their experiments from looking at the body?"

"Position of tumours suggests deliberate mutation of adrenal, pineal glands," Mordin said. "Modifying hormone levels. Counterattack on glands hit by genophage. Clever."

"Do you think they're close to curing the genophage?" I wondered.

"Can't say," Mordin shook his head. "Need more data. Conceptually sound, though. Genophage alters hormone levels. Could repair damage with hormonal counterattack."

"First rescuing your former colleague, now tests on humans," I shook my head. "Another reason to shut this place down."

"Focus on Maelon," Mordin advised, his voice both matter-of-fact and sad. "Too late to help the dead."

* * *

><p>We continued down another flight of stairs, swiping some iridium along the way, and entered a large hallway. There was the usual clutter scattered around, plus several large columns holding the place up. At the far end of the chamber, I saw a large fuel tank. Above it ran a narrow corridor, fenced off by railing, with a door in the middle. That corridor ran along the wall and around the right hand wall, leading to a ramp that led down to the ground.<p>

The back of my neck was starting to tingle, so I wasn't surprised when the doors hissed open and a trio of krogan marched in. "I am the speaker for Clan Weyrloc, offworlders," the middle one proclaimed. "You have shed our blood. By rights, you should be dead already. But Weyrloc Guld, the Chief of Chiefs, has ordered that you be given leave to flee and spread the message of our coming."

"Krogan don't generally let people go," I frowned. "What does Clan Weyrloc have planned?"

"If you walk away now, you can tell your children that you saw Clan Weyrloc before our Blood Pack conquered the stars."

Aw, really? Could I? Could I? Oh, thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ "Clan Urdnot might have something to say about that," I said mildly.

"You think the Urdnot impressive," the speaker scoffed. "They are pitiful! Weyrloc Guld will destroy them! The salarian will cure the genophage and Clan Weyrloc will spread across the galaxy in a sea of blood!"

"Appears they discovered Maelon's work," Mordin muttered out of the corner of his mouth to me. "Unfortunate."

"It doesn't have to happen like this," I replied. "I can understand wanting to cure the genophage—"

"No, human! You understand _nothing!_" the speaker roared, shaking in anger. "You have not seen the piles of children that never lived! The krogan were wronged! We will make it right... and then we will have our revenge!"

"Half the galaxy see the krogan as victims!" I pressed, subtly nudging Mordin in case he hadn't realized that the krogan who survived the genophage might have a few justified grievances. "If you start a war, you'll lose their support!"

"We have the Blood Pack," the speaker growled. "We have the salarian. When our clan numbers in the millions, we will not need support!"

He started pacing back and forth. "When we cure the genophage, Weyrloc Guld will rule all krogan! The Krogan Rebellions will become the Krogan Empire! The surviving races will frighten their children with stories of what the Blood Pack did to the turians! The asari will scream as their Citadel plunges into the sun! We will keep salarians as slaves and eat their eggs as a delicacy! If you lack the wisdom to flee, then you will be the first of billions to be crushed beneath our migh—"

I interrupted him with a loud yawn. "You talk too much." Pulling out my pistol, I fired a single shot.

The speaker flinched instinctively before bursting into laughter. "See?" he told his comrades, not realizing they were backing away. "The human cannot hit a simple target!"

Then he frowned, leaned over the rail and peered at the ground. I'd imagine it looked like it was flickering, what with the gas that was hissing out of the hole I made in the fuel tank. I fired another shot to ignite the fumes.

The tank exploded in his face. He roared in pain as his entire body erupted into flames, the fuel burning through his body as if he was a walking golem of molten rock. After a few seconds of frantic arm-waving, he collapsed to the ground.

I barely had a chance to snap off a fireball at the remaining two krogan before four vorcha showed up. The six of them moved down the corridor, firing as they went. Clearly they were hoping to get to the ramp and charge down it towards us.

Unfortunately, the krogan were so eager to pound us to a pulp, they managed to get to the ramp before we could knock out their defences. I signalled anyone who could throw something against their armour—besides bullets and foul language—to stand by. Then I took one step out in the open and waved at the krogan.

Then I cloaked.

Sure enough, the krogan came to a halt, trying to figure out where I went and who they should go after next. They only paused for a couple seconds before coming to a decision, but that was enough time for the squad to unleash a withering salvo of biotics and plasma. Seeing that they had received enough damage, I decided to take advantage of my cloak to lock on one of the krogan and fire a shot from my sniper rifle.

To my surprise, a bloody spray of brains and goop came out the back side—meaning that while the krogan had been killed, his skull wasn't thick enough to absorb all of the momentum from the bullet, which subsequently went in one side and out the other. Still, dead is dead. Plus, the spray distracted the other krogan long enough for Jacob to levitate the sucker so Grunt and Garrus could fire concussive rounds into his hide. Seeing him fly back into the wall, slowly topple down and crush one of the vorcha was kinda funny.

That left three vorcha to go. Tali distracted one of them with her combat drone, giving Kasumi more than enough time to cloak, sneak up and give him a lethal jolt in the back. I melted a hole in another vorcha's armour, leaving him open for Jack to crush him into the wall with a wave of biotic energy. Grunt charged up the ramp towards the last vorcha, who promptly shrieked, threw his assault rifle towards him and ran like hell.

To his credit, he almost reached the door before Grunt caught up with him. After a few cracks and pops, Grunt stood up, his arms soaked in vorcha blood.

"This is fun," he beamed. "We'll have lots of stories to retell over dinner."

I looked up from the pack of iridium I was swiping, stared at him, then shook my head.

* * *

><p>"Labs likely through there," Mordin said. "Can smell antiseptic, hint of dead flesh."<p>

"Well, I'm spooked," Kasumi replied sarcastically. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

We had just left the room where the Weyrloc clanspeaker's attempts to tout the glory, etc. of Clan Weyrloc had turned into yet another battle. I only paid a bit of attention to the banter, as I was occupied with my usual activities. It was more than looting everything that wasn't nailed down, though I did scoop up some salvage. It was also about scouting around, getting a sense of the layout and clearing rooms of potential hostiles rather than letting them sneak up behind you.

I'll wait a second for you to convince yourself that that was what I was really doing.

Anyway, there was nothing in the room we were currently in, but I saw a corridor leading out. It looked like there were at least two doors in the corridor, both near our end and facing each other. "Garrus," I said. "Take Team Two and check out the room on the left; we'll investigate the right room. Whoever finishes first, scout down the hallway."

The squad split up and entered the room. Demonstrating our priorities, I went straight for another pack of iridium collecting dust in the corner while Mordin made a bee-line for the computer terminal. "Active console," he murmured. "May contain useful data. One moment."

His fingers flew over the keyboard for a couple minutes. I started getting dizzy after a while, watching him open and close files and graphs with blinding speed, so I was relieved when he began to report his preliminary findings: "Genetic sequences. Hormone mutagens still steady. Protein chains, live tissue, cloned tissue. Very thorough. Standard treatment vectors. Avoiding scorched-earth immunosuppressants to alter hormone levels. Good. Hate to see that."

I couldn't help but marvel at how calm and logical he was about the whole thing. "Most people wouldn't be so casual about developing a sterility plague, Mordin."

"Not developing," Mordin corrected. "Modifying. Much more difficult. Working within confines of existing genophage. A hundred times the complexity. Errors unacceptable. Could cause total sterility, malignant tumours. Could even reduce effectiveness. Worse than doing nothing. Had to keep krogan population stable. One in one thousand. Perfect target, optimal growth. Like gardening."

Okay. _That _was too much. "Pretty up however you like," I snapped. "You're talking about murdering millions!"

Mordin's eyes flared. Guess he took offense to that. "No. Murdered no one. Altered fertility, prevented fetal development of nervous system.

"Have killed many, Shepard. Many methods. Gunfire, knives, drugs, tech attacks, once with farming equipment. But _not with medicine_."

"Then what were you doing?" I asked. "Are you saying that, by sticking to this one in one thousand ratio, you were working just as hard to keep the krogan population from falling?"

"_Yes_," Mordin nodded enthusiastically. "Could have eradicated krogan. Not difficult-increased mutation to degrade genetic structure further. Chose _not _to. Rachni extinction _tragic_. _Didn't _want to repeat. All life _precious_. Universe demands diversity."

Squashing the sudden image of salarians and turians holding hands and singing 'Kumbaya' over a bunch of dead krogan, I decided to play along for now. **(7)**"What was it like, working on the genophage modification project?"

Mordin took a deep breath, like inhaling a chestful of sweet, clean air. "Best years of my life. Wake up with ideas. Talk over breakfast. Experiments all morning. Statistical analysis in afternoon. Run new simulations during dinner, set data runs to cook overnight. Laughter. Ego. Argument. Passion. Galaxy's biggest problem, massive resources thrown at us. Got anything we wanted."

"Do you still keep in touch with your old team members?"

"No," Mordin replied, abruptly becoming solemn. Almost sad. "All changed with deployment. Made test drop on isolated krogan clan. Hit rest of Tuchanka when results were positive."

Like conducting a pilot study for proof of concept before going ahead with full-scale expansion.

"End of project. Separate ways. Watching it end, watching birth rates drop. Personal. Private. Not appropriate for team."

"You must have had a lot of success and prestige to be entrusted with a project like that," I observed. "How'd you go from that to running a clinic on Omega?"

"Wanted to heal people," Mordin said quietly. "Good use of last decade. Something easy. No ethical concerns. Understand rationale for modified genophage. Right choice. Still... hard to sleep some nights."

"If it's that difficult, how can you continue to support the use of the genophage, Mordin?" I asked. "Look at what happened to Tuchanka as a result."

Mordin shook his head. "State of Tuchanka not due to genophage. Nuclear winter caused by krogan before salarians made first contact. Krogan choices. Expand after Rachni Wars. Refuse truce during Krogan Rebellions. Splinter after genophage.

"Genophage medical, not nuclear. No craters from virus. Damage caused by krogan, not salarians. Not me."

I put up a hand to stop Mordin before he continued. "You're missing the point, Mordin. I wasn't talking about the nuclear devastation that the krogan inflicted on themselves before the salarians showed up. Or to the initial development and deployment of the genophage. Or how the krogan dealt with things afterwards. I'm talking about what _you and your team_ did and how that affected Tuchanka. _That's_ still your responsibility. You upgraded the virus that kept them in barbarism!"

"Krogan committed war crimes," Mordin insisted. "Refused to negotiate. Turian defeat not complete. Krogan could have recovered, attacked again. Conventional war too risky. Krogan forces too strong. Genophage was only option. Krogan forced genophage. Us or them. No apologies for winning, but wouldn't have minded peaceful solution."

"So if Wrex succeeds, and the krogan band together to form a united government, you'd welcome that?"

"Yes," Mordin replied. "United krogan saved galaxy, destroyed rachni. Genophage not punishment. Simply alters fertility to correct for removal from hostile environment."

"Given what I've seen of krogan culture, I think the genophage did more than that," I pointed out. "Forcing it on them removed any incentive for them to unite or make any long-term plans where peace was a viable option. Instead, they just bury themselves in fighting for blood sport or creds because there's nothing left for them. It might not have been intended as a punishment, Mordin, but it sure wound up that way."

Mordin still didn't seem convinced by my arguments, much like I wasn't convinced by his. I still didn't get how Mordin could justify what he did. It didn't help that it wasn't about ego. Mordin's actions and justifications were firmly grounded in the belief that it was for the greater good of the galaxy. Wasn't that the rationale for all those covert ops missions I participated in back in the Alliance? Was that what being a Spectre was all about? So why was I having so much trouble with this? Had I gone too far all this time? Or had I not gone far enough?

"We're not going to find Maelon staring at consoles," I said after a minute of internal debate. If Mordin could spend years pondering the issue and not come to a satisfying answer, I sure as heck wouldn't be able to figure it out here and now. "Let's go find the rest of the squad."

That didn't take too much effort. They were right behind us-presumably listening to the entire conversation. "Garrus?" I said.

"There's something you should see," Garrus replied quietly.

We silently followed Garrus to the room I'd directed him to search. It didn't take long to see what had caught Team Two's attention.

Mordin walked over to the autopsy table, picked up the datapad and scanned through its contents. "Dead krogan. Female. Tumours indicate experimentation. No restraint marks. Volunteer. Sterile Weyrloc female willing to risk procedures. Hoped for cure.

"Pointless," Mordin seethed, body quivering with suppressed rage. "_Pointless _waste of life."

"I didn't expect you to be disturbed by the sight of a dead krogan," I admitted.

"What?" Mordin jerked his head up angrily. "Why? Because of genophage work? Irrelevant. No, _causative_. _Never _experimented on live krogan. _Never_ killed with medicine. Her death not my work, only reaction to it. Goal was to stabilize population. _Never_ wanted this. Can see it logically... but still unnecessary. _Foolish_ waste of life. _Hate_ to see it."

"So you've seen it before?" I asked. "Did you come to Tuchanka after dropping your plague?"

"Yearly recon missions," Mordin replied grimly. "Water, tissue samples. Ensure no mistakes. Superiors offered to carry it on. Refused. Need to see it in person. _Need_ to look. _Need_to see. Accept it as necessary. See small picture. Remind myself why I ran a clinic on Omega."

In other words, he might stand behind his decision. He might feel that, in the big picture, it helped the greater good. But he wasn't blind to the consequences. He had to remind himself what his work did to the krogan.

Mordin ran a hand over the krogan's head. "Rest, young mother," he whispered. "Find your gods. Find someplace better."

That was a new twist. "Spirituality, Mordin?"

"Genophage modification project altered millions of lives," Mordin said softly. "Then saw results. Ego, humility, juxtaposition. Frailty of life. Size of universe. Explored religions after work completed. Different races. No answers. Many questions."

"Sounds like you were trying to deal with a guilty conscience," I observed.

Mordin's response confirmed it: "Modified genophage project great in scope. Scientifically brilliant. But... ethically difficult. Krogan reaction visceral, tragic. Not guilty, but responsible. Trained as doctor. Genophage affects fertility. _Doesn't_ kill. Still caused this. Hard to see big picture behind pile of corpses."

"Then how can you rationalize it? How do you justify your actions?"

"Wheel of life. Popular salarian concept. Similar to human Hinduism in focus on reincarnation. Appealing to see life as endless. Fix mistakes in next life. Learn, adapt, improve."

Sounded more like a spiral than a circle to me if you're constantly trying to fix mistakes from a previous life in the next one, but what do I know? I have enough on my plate, thank you very much.

"Refuse to believe life ends here. Too wasteful. Have more to offer. Mistakes to fix. Cannot end here. Could do so much more."

Mordin had brought that up a few too many times to be easily dismissed. No matter how much he wanted to believe his actions were justified, he clearly felt responsibility and remorse for what he did and wanted to make it right. To atone for his sins and correct his mistakes. If he couldn't accomplish that in his last remaining years, then it was comforting to know that he could have a second try in the next life.

Still... "If you need this much soul-searching to get over it, maybe the genophage was wrong," I suggested.

"Had to be done," Mordin insisted. "Rachni Wars, Krogan Rebellions. All pointed to krogan aggression. So many simulations. Effects of krogan population increase. All pointed to war. Extinction. Genophage or genocide. Save galaxy from krogan. Save krogan from galaxy."

"So you're willing to sterilize a species based on the evidence of a few simulations?"

"Yes. Millions of data points. Years of arguments. Countless scenarios. All noted krogan fragmentation as dangerous," Mordin insisted. "No unified culture to support repopulation. Would have been _war_. Turians and humans destroying krogan utterly. Couldn't have that."

"You could have cured the genophage instead," I argued. "Unite the krogan and encourage repopulation by bringing hope to the krogan. They'd have rejoiced."

"Assumes human reaction," Mordin disagreed. "Krogan stimulus response different. Harsh environment, take chance to fight, flee. Would have caused chaos on Tuchanka. Victor would have war economy, bloodthirsty army. Galactic expansion only logical outcome. More war. Genophage saved lives war would have ended." **(8)**

I looked at him for a moment, then tilted my head towards the krogan. "Look at the dead woman, Mordin. Doesn't look like you saved her."

"No... it doesn't," Mordin admitted. "Worked with available data. Only option. No other possible... doesn't matter."

I was done talking for now. We still had to rescue Maelon and shut this place down. Besides, despite what he might say, Mordin was still struggling with what he had done. I kinda felt relieved: this mission had brought up all sorts of unexpected questions and introspection for me. It was nice to see I wasn't the only one confused and distressed. Maybe Mordin and I had something in common after all. Except for the constant needling and nagging. I might not be able to sway Mordin to my way of thinking with one grandiose speech, but I could dig it up uncomfortable truths just as fast as Mordin could bury it away.

Before leaving, I saw another computer console. This one was locked, but I managed to hack it and uncover some useful specs that I downloaded for later analysis. It was easier than all this big-picture stuff.

* * *

><p>We went through a door into another hallway, which took a sharp left after twenty metres or so towards another door. A small room at the corner had been converted into a makeshift cell. Guess someone thought it would be more efficient to minimize the travel time from to the labs and morgues. A krogan was the only occupant. First time I ever saw one sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees.<p>

"You killed the Blood Pack guards," he said.

Either we'd made a lot of noise shooting each other earlier or he had guessed that there was no other way for us to get this far and still have all our limbs.

"Not Blood Pack, not member of Clan Weyrloc. Wrong clan markings," Mordin identified.

"I'm an Urdnot scout," the krogan replied softly. "Weyrloc guards got me. Brought me here."

That reminded me: "The chief scout told us to watch for you. We've taken out the guards. Get back to Urdnot."

The krogan's head drooped. "I can't. The Weyrloc did things to me. Drugs. Injections. Said I was sacrificing for the good of all krogan. Experiments to cure the genophage. Everything's blurry. Hard to think. Have to stay."

"Mordin, can you get him back on his feet?" I asked. "Stims, maybe? Something to bolster his immune system?"

To my surprise, the krogan interrupted before Mordin could get a word out. "You don't understand. I'm not too sick to leave. I _have _to stay."

The hell?

"They're curing the genophage," he continued, a note of urgency entering his unusually quiet-for a krogan-voice. "They're gonna make it all better! They have to keep doing the tests!"

"Caution, Shepard," Mordin warned. "Patient unstable, susceptible. Brainwashed."

Fair guess. "Why do you want them to keep doing the tests?"

"This is my fault," the scout said miserably. "I got caught. Wasn't strong enough. Not good enough. This is the best I can do. This is all I can do."

I didn't think he could get any more miserable, but I was soon proven wrong. "I'm not big enough to have a real shot with the females. I'll never have kids of my own. But if I help undo the genophage, then I _mattered_!"

Time to burst the bubble before he got any deeper into his funk. "Millions of children will be born," I agreed before dropping the kicker, "_Weyrloc _children. They're going to destroy the other clans."

A look of horror slowly crept over his face. "But... no. No, they said I was helping _Urdnot_!"

I put aside the question of why the heck Weyrloc would want to help another clan and pressed on. "If you want to help Urdnot, you need to get your ass outta here and get back to your clan. But it would take a real badass to make it back to camp while injured."

"I can do it."

"You?" I laughed derisively. "I said a _badass_, not some pup whining like a quarian with a tummy-ache."

"I'm standing right here," Tali protested.

Oops.

Fortunately, the scout wasn't paying attention to her. He pushed himself to his feet. "I can do it," he insisted. "I'm up! And I'm going to the female camp!"

Everybody has their own form of motivation, I guess. "Damn right you are!" I grinned. "Get back there and show them what you're worth! Go! Go!"

The scout let out a mighty roar before stomping out of the cell and down the hallway. Tali watched him disappear before shaking her head. "I can't believe that worked. By the way, I'm still mad at you, Shepard."

"Forgive me? Please?"

"Well... I suppose I can let you pass," Tali relented. "This time."

"You're never this forgiving with me," Garrus lamented.

"Because you never said 'please'," Tali replied.

"Yes I did."

"No you didn't."

While they hashed things out, I liberated some creds from a nearby datapad. Then we went to the last door. I was just about to activate the controls when EDI contacted me. "Shepard, I'm detecting crates ahead that are holding unstable materials. A misplaced shot could cause a significant explosion."

"Or a well-placed shot," Mordin added, having recovered his usual cheer. "Explosives useful. Burn through krogan armour."

"I love the smell of melting armour in the morning," I joked. More seriously, I added "Everybody stay away from those crates. Try not to use them as improvised explosives unless we're in trouble. No point in wasting free weapons if we don't have to."

Having given my orders, we entered on the upper level of an atrium or chamber of some sort. A narrow bridge connected the two sides of this level, with a stairway leading down on the other side. Sure enough, there were a couple crates scattered around, including one on the bridge. We'd probably have to go down those stairs at some point. Just as soon as we'd cleared the path of bad guys. The first bunch were a pair of vorcha, accompanied by a krogan. I assigned the vorcha to Team Two, leaving the krogan for Team One. Miranda's biotics smashed against the krogan's armour a split second before my plasma, reducing the protective plates to a thin shell. Thane was the next to employ his biotics, blasting through the krogan's armour with enough residual force to wound him. Unfortunately, the krogan's inherent ability to regenerate came to his rescue. Even worse, another krogan charged onto the scene, eager to join the battle. The first krogan waited for his buddy, then the two of them stomped onto the bridge.

Aw, crap.

"I believe this qualifies as trouble," Miranda said dryly. I saw her tap her omni-tool, no doubt preparing to overload the containment systems of the crate on the bridge.

"Wait." I held out a hand to stop her. "You and Thane get ready to distract the krogan with your biotics. Kasumi can blow up the crate."

"My pleasure," Kasumi grinned wickedly.

"On the count of three," I told them. "Three, two, one... GO!"

Our plan worked like a charm. Miranda and Thane hurled their biotics, which exploded in the krogan's ugly faces and brought them to a halt. Right in front of the crate that Kasumi obligingly ignited. The resulting explosion was enough to kill the weakened krogan and seriously injure the other one. A single shot from my sniper rifle finished him off.

"Clear," Garrus reported. Looking around, I confirmed that all our enemies were down. "We'll hold the bridge," I told him. "You scout this side for anything useful."

It took less than a minute for him to find nothing more than a bit of salvage, so he led Team Two across the bridge. As soon as they took cover, it was our turn. We were halfway across the bridge when Jacob yelled out "Varren!" A second later, Tali gave a warning of her own: "Krogan!"

Apparently one of the krogan decided to take a trio of varren for a walk. Zaeed's inferno grenade and Mordin's plasma round quickly showed how they really should have stayed home. While the varren were shaking off the flames, Team Two hosed them down with gunfire. Which left the krogan for us. How kind.

I didn't feel like having another close encounter, so I cloaked while Miranda and Thane hammered away at him with their biotics. Then I drilled a nice neat hole into the krogan's thick skull. That wasn't quite enough, though. Grunt got to deliver the kill-shot with a concussive round.

It was our turn to scrounge for loot, so I quickly gathered whatever I could. Then the squad continued leapfrogging down to the level below. It was similar to the upper level, except there were two bridges this time. We had scarcely found cover when a pair of krogan popped up on our side of the level and headed our way. Miranda, Thane, Mordin and I immediately unleashed a withering barrage of biotics and plasma against their armour, reducing it to scrap metal in a heartbeat. Garrus and Zaeed were quick to capitalize on their vulnerability by firing concussive rounds from their sniper rifles into one of the krogan. The other one soon followed, thanks to a steady stream of bullets from Samara and Tali.

Jack pouted, no doubt disappointed that she had yet to deal the final blow herself. "Don't suppose there are any more?"

"Yeah," Grunt said. "I'm just gettin' warmed up."

I sighed as the door on the other side of the room hissed open. "Happy?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Uh huh."

Oh for crying out loud.

A varren quickly scrambled onto the nearest bridge and loped towards us. A combination of plasma and gunfire took the sucker down. Unfortunately, there were two krogan right behind him. Plus another varren who chose to charge across the other bridge.

And if that weren't enough, another krogan marched in. "Tremble and die, offworld scum!" he roared. "For I am Weyrloc Guld, Chief of Chiefs! Blood Pack: attack!"

Aw, crap.

"Concentrate on the krogan," I yelled. Ignoring my own advice, I aimed my latest fireball at the varren, deciding to deal with the mutt on my own before it could start chewing on our legs. Or worse: peeing on them. As the plasma burned through the varren's scaly armour, I watched as the squad ganged up on one of the krogan, steadily whittling his defences down. I was so focused on watching that sucker's gradual demise, I almost forgot about the varren. Until his growl drew my attention. I immediately snapped off a fireball.

Which missed.

I blinked in disbelief, cursed and pummelled the heck out of the varren. After a couple heavy blows, I finally managed to snap his neck. As the varren slumped to the ground, I heard a cheer as one of the krogan finally hit the dirt. Unfortunately, there were still two more to go.

A frantic spray of bullets chipped away at the lead krogan's armour, but he was still stomping towards us. I waited until I had a clear shot, cloaked and fired my sniper rifle. Unfortunately, his armour took the brunt of the blast, so the brute was able to stomp around a pillar and flank us. We stared in horror as he leered at us, all vulnerable and out in the open.

Jack spat out a curse and sent him stumbling back with a biotic shockwave. Taking advantage of his distraction, Jacob quickly yanked him up in the air with his biotics. Then it was Samara's turn. Thrusting her arm forward, she casually flicked her wrist. A stream of biotics rippled through the air and sent him flying up, up and away.

That left Weyrloc Guld, whose howl of outrage was cut short by two biotic explosions, courtesy of Miranda and Thane. The impacts rippled across a biotic barrier. Apparently, he was a battlemaster—the biotic kind, that is. And in case that wasn't enough, he was also smart enough to add some armour plating to his hardsuit as well.

"Concussive rounds and rapid fire," I ordered. Garrus, Zaeed and Grunt immediately complied with the former while everybody else fired their assault rifles, submachine guns and heavy pistols. By the time he had gotten across the bridge, Guld's barriers were gone. Mordin and I immediately launched plasma rounds, both of which landed direct hits. This made it even scarier to see him stomping our way, so consumed with the urge to tear us limb from limb that he completely missed the fact that he was on fire. Kasumi even overloaded a nearby crate to blow up in his face. He just kept coming.

Tali tapped her omni-tool and activated her combat drone. "Go get him, Chikitta," she ordered. "Good girl!"

The drone zipped towards Guld and zapped him. He stopped, stared at it, then smacked it into the wall. However, that bought enough time for everyone to catch their breath. Guld was only able to take another step before he got hit with biotics, plasma and enough gunfire to make even him stumble. I delivered the final blow with a single shot. Then I led the team scrounging for thermal clips, creds and any other interesting toys.

The krogan Samara had catapulted into the sky came crashing back down a minute later.

* * *

><p>Maelon's lab was a cavernous room at the bottom of the complex, which we found after descending another flight of stairs. The walls were lined with large tanks and machinery crammed along the walls. At the far end lay a computer console with one enormous screen. Maelon was alone, manipulating something with his hands. As we got closer, I saw that he actually had an omni-tool on <em>both <em>arms. Guess he was a firm believer in multi-tasking.

"Maelon," Mordin frowned in confusion. "Alive. Unharmed. No signs of restraint. No evidence of torture. Don't understand."

I glanced at him before taking a closer look. Mordin's observations were bang-on. Something wasn't right.

"For such a smart man, Professor, you always had trouble seeing evidence that disagreed with your preconceptions," Maelon replied coldly. He turned around and glared at his old boss. "How long will it take you to admit that I'm here because I wish to be here?"

"He wasn't kidnapped," I realized. "He came here _voluntarily _to cure the genophage."

Mordin stiffened in shock. "Impossible. Whole team _agreed_! Project necessary!"

"How was I supposed to disagree with the 'great' Professor Solus?" Maelon asked bitterly. "I was your _student_!" he suddenly yelled. "I looked _up_to you!"

"Experiments performed here. Live subjects!" Mordin snapped back furiously, waving his arm like he was scolding his old student. "_Prisoners_! _Torture and executions_! Your doing?"

Maelon's response was immediate. "We've already got the blood of millions on our hands, Professor. If it takes a bit more to put things right, I can deal with that."

"You honestly think the experiments you did here are justified?" I broke in.

"We committed cultural genocide!" Maelon cried out. "Nothing I do will ever be justified! The experiments are monstrous... because I was _taught_ to be a monster!"

"Mordin," I asked, humouring Maelon for a moment, "did you ever perform experiments like this?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head in disgust. "Never taught you this, Maelon."

"So your hands are clean!" Maelon sneered. "What does it matter if the ground is stained with the blood of millions? You taught me that the ends justified the means. I will undo what we did, Professor. The only way I know how."

"What happens if the genophage is cured and the krogan expand again?" I asked, deliberately echoing Mordin's earlier arguments. "That will be on your head."

"We justified this atrocity by saying the krogan would cause havoc and war if their population recovered," Maelon replied. "But look at the galaxy! Batarian attacks in the Traverse, geth attacks on the Citadel. Is _this_a more peaceful universe?

"The assault on your Eden Prime might never have happened if we had let the krogan recover," he added, turning to me. "We'll never know."

"How would a krogan population explosion have done anything to stop Saren and the geth?" I demanded.

"An increased krogan population would have forced the Council to take steps, likely involving colony rights in the Traverse. The turian fleets would be vigilant for any military activity in the area. They might have stopped the geth at Eden Prime."

"Supposition," Mordin disagreed. "Impossible to be certain!"

"Don't you see?" Maelon pleaded. "We tried to play god—and we failed! We only made things worse... and I'm going to fix it."

"You talked about killing, but the genophage isn't lethal," I said, taking another page from Mordin's book. "It only affects fertility rates."

I saw Mordin shift slightly as Maelon responded. Seemed like sticking to his script was harder to do when the rebuttal came from one of his own students. "So they die slowly, one senseless death at a time. Krogan slaughter each other fighting over fertile females. They become mercenaries or pirates, dying for credits because they see no alternative! They would be thriving in a cultural renaissance now had we not decided that this is what they deserved!"

"Inaccurate," Mordin insisted. "Krogan re-population resulted in war. Simulations were clear! The data was sound!"

"Speaking of which, how did you access the genophage data anyway," I asked, changing the subject. "And why work with Clan Weyrloc?"

Maelon laughed bitterly. "The data was easy to obtain. We all still had clearance. We were heroes. All I had to do was ask. As for the Weyrloc, they were the only clan with both the resources and the commitment."

"Urdnot has a larger camp than Weyrloc," I pointed out. "Why not use them?"

"Urdnot Wrex was too soft," Maelon sneered. "He wasn't willing to do the experiments I needed."

"Because he was busy trying to unite the krogan clans and encourage them to concentrate on breeding," I replied. "The very thing all your simulations claimed were impossible."

"A pipe dream," he waved off. "It'll never work. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen." Maelon shook his head. "It's Urdnot's loss and Weyrloc's gain. Their clan will be the first to recover from the crime we committed."

"Maelon clearly doesn't need rescuing," I said, turning to Mordin. "What do you want to do?"

"Have to end this," Mordin replied quietly.

That set Maelon off. "You can't face the truth, can you?" he cried out, whipping out a pistol and waving it about. "Can't admit that your brilliant mind led you to commit an atrocity!"

Maelon obviously hadn't had much experience in combat or hostage situations, otherwise he would have known better than to constantly switch his aim and his attention between targets. Mordin only had to wait until he was looking away before he lunged forward and socked him in the jaw. Maelon dropped his pistol and stumbled back against the computer console.

"_Unacceptable_ experiments," Mordin seethed, yanking out his own pistol and jamming it under Maelon's chin. "_Unacceptable_ goals. Won't change. No choice.

"Have to kill you."

"Wait!" I snapped. "You don't need to do this, Mordin. Think about it: you said you're not a murderer. This is your chance to prove it."

Mordin tensed up for a moment.

Then he relaxed and lowered his weapon. "No. Not a murderer. Thank you, Shepard."

Maelon wiped a drop of sweat off his forehead as Mordin took a step back. Student and teacher looked at each other for a long moment. "Finished, Maelon," Mordin said. "Get out. No Weyrloc left. Project over."

"Is it?" I frowned. "Aren't you worried that he'll start his research again?"

"No," Mordin strode forward and shoved Maelon away from the computer. "Will lock this unit. Special Tasks Group can cut access to old data.

"Could start from scratch," he conceded, looking at Maelon. "Decades of work, though. Didn't teach you _everything _I know."

"What if he talks to more krogan?" I asked. "Tell the public about the modified genophage project?"

"Special Tasks Group also good at covering tracks," Mordin smiled grimly. "No proof. Weyrloc willingness to work with salarian unusual. Other krogan would kill him."

"Fair enough," I shrugged. "You heard the professor, Maelon. Get out before he changes his mind."

"Where am I supposed to go, Professor?" Maelon demanded.

"Don't care," Mordin said. "Try Omega. Can always use another clinic."

Maelon left, but not without getting in the last word. "The krogan didn't deserve what we did to them, Professor. The genophage needs to end."

Mordin turned back to the console and stared at the data. "Not like this."

He shook his head after a moment. "Apologies, Commander. Misunderstood mission parameters. No kidnapping. My mistake. Thank you."

"Don't worry about me, Mordin," I replied. "How are you doing?"

"Should have killed him. Wanted to. Easier than listening."

That was kind of the point. I didn't play Twenty Questions to indulge my curiosity. Well, I did, but there was another reason.

"Easier for him, too," Mordin continued. "Experiments indicate how far he's fallen. Expected it from krogan. Not one of mine."

"Maybe you could remember that the next time someone's discussing the ethics of the genophage," I suggested.

"Yes," he agreed. So many variables. Stress responses. Impossible to truly predict. Something to think about. Maelon's research."

Guess he decided to think about it later.

"Only loose end. Could destroy it. Closure, security. Still valuable, though."

Time for a little test. "This is the research that includes tests on living victims," I reminded him, injecting a little distaste in my voice. "It's tainted."

"Right now, victims died for nothing," Mordin replied. "Keep it, use it, deaths worth something. Maelon's work could cure genophage. Don't know. Effects on krogan. Effects on galaxy. Too many variables. Too many variables."

It was a start, I decided. Baby steps and all that. "If you regret what the krogan have become, if you see what's been lost—"

"Wasted potential," Mordin whispered.

"They don't deserve this, Mordin. None of them deserve this. Save the data."

"Point taken, Shepard," Mordin nodded. "Capturing data, wiping local copy." A few taps were all that was needed for Mordin to transfer the data to his omni-tool and delete any backups from the computer. "Still years away from cure. But closer than starting from scratch." **(9)**

Mordin turned towards me. "Done. Ready to go. Ready to be off Tuchanka. Anywhere else. Maybe somewhere sunny."

Well, I guess it doesn't hurt to dream.

* * *

><p>While returning the combustion manifold I'd found earlier to a grateful krogan mechanic, EDI contacted us. <em>"Clan Urdnot has increased in strength after the destruction of Clan Weyrloc,"<em> the AI reported.

That was fast. Wrex clearly hadn't wasted any time upon hearing of the demise of Clan Weyrloc. We later found out he adopted the remaining members—mostly women and children—into his clan. Mordin was surprised and impressed by Wrex's intelligence and foresight. I wasn't.

I was more surprised to see Urz still following me around. Looked like I might have a new pet. Not that I took him with us when we returned to the Normandy. The ship's not exactly designed for pets. Besides, it was either let him roam around and hope he doesn't bite someone's leg off or keep him locked up and drive him stir-crazy.

As soon as I got back to my quarters, I checked my e-mail. There was one new message:

_From: Urdnot Darg_

_Dear Human,_

_The clan leader told me how to get in touch with you. I don't remember much of what happened, but the chief scout said you pulled my quad out of the fire when I got caught and poisoned over at the Weyrloc camp. Thanks. Next time I have a chance to kill a human, I won't. Unless I go into blood rage or something._

_I got to go to the female camp after I recovered, and it was pretty good.I was actually thinking of joining the Blood Pack before this happened. I think I'm going to stay here instead._

_—Urdnot Darg, Scout-Second Class_

Nice to know my work was appreciated.

After changing out of my hardsuit, I went to see Mordin. "Still hard to believe Maelon betrayed me," he said when I asked how he was doing. "Betrayed my work. _Disgusted _by his actions. Proud of his nerve, though. Always thought he lacked backbone. Hope he finds something new. Better goal, better purpose. Fewer torture tests."

"You seem remarkably composed," I observed. "You're really at peace with what happened?"

"Yes," he replied matter-of-factly. "Of course. Can't change what happened. Life continues. Back to mission, back to work. Become like Maelon otherwise.

"Salarian emotional processing faster than other species," he explained, seeing my scepticism. "Has to be. Short-lived culture. Can't spend time reminiscing."

"So you really don't feel bad at all about what happened on Tuchanka?"

"Yes, correct. Now, at least—greatly distressed at the time. Stages of grief. Loss, anger, rationalization. Dealt with it. Most issues settled on Tuchanka. Some on shuttle back to Normandy."

Maybe he was all right and I didn't buy it because of my human perspective. I guess that made sense. Sort of. "Then why did Maelon do all this?" I asked. "He didn't seem like he processed his emotional response. He was obsessed with the genophage."

"True," Mordin conceded. "Didn't mean to imply that salarians were healthier emotionally. Can still make wrong choices, bad decisions from grief, anger, guilt. Maelon couldn't accept feelings, made decision, executed it. Probably before I left for Omega. Wish I'd seen it. Salarians still feel, just resolve it quickly. Explains lack of marriage. Can't sustain courtship emotions. Or perhaps based on reproduction. Unsure."

Uh huh. "What about Maelon's data on the genophage? His attempts at a cure?"

"What about it? Have it over there somewhere. Not dealing with it now. Need to focus on Collectors. Not important now, regardless. Appreciate you helping me back on Tuchanka. Should get back to work. Wasted enough time already. Lots to do. Talk later?"

"Sure." I turned to leave. On the way out, I casually added: "You've got at least six calibration errors flashing on the console."

"What? Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Experiment potentially ruined."

Mordin focused his efforts on the console—the one in front of him, that is. Behind him, on another console, I could see a bunch of graphs. Some of those graphs looked remarkably similar to the ones I saw Maelon tinkering with. The only reason I could see that might explain all this was that Mordin _hadn't_ finished processing yet, despite his claims to the contrary.

I found that quite reassuring somehow.

* * *

><p><em>(1): The term often used to describe the salarians giving the krogan advanced technology and moving them from Tuchanka to more hospitable worlds to aid the Council races against the rachni. <em>

_(2): No doubt this information came from the ties Mordin maintained with the Special Tasks Group and other contacts in salarian intelligence. _

_(3): An earth-based organization dedicated to ethical treatment of galactic wildlife. _

_(4): Ganar Wrang was a krogan battlemaster who was exiled from Clan Weyrloc and Tuchanka for striking a female in anger. Over the next decade, he was instrumental in drawing both recruits and infamy towards the Blood Pack—originally a small gang of vorcha based in the Terminus notoriety drew several investors. Now rich beyond most krogan's dreams, he returned to Clan Weyrloc, where he successfully attracted elders, krogan, firepower and biotic support towards violence-for-profit in the Terminus Systems._

_(5): Shepard's insight, unfortunately, proved to be right on the money._

_(6): 'Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor),' released by Robert Palmer in 1978._

_(7): An African-American spiritual song originating sometime during the 1930s, associated with spiritual unity, closeness and compassion. The picture Shepard brings to mind, though, is somewhat different. _

_(8): Readers will no doubt find themselves divided regarding whether to agree with Shepard that some lines should not be crossed or disagree with him as being too blinded by his personal opinions to see the big picture. It's at times like these that I bitterly regret assuming the position of Councillor, as it's much easier to be distracted by what seems 'right' by what 'serves the greater good.' _

_(9): The sad thing is, many people would prefer it if the data was 'accidentally' deleted. However, Mordin's decision—and Shepard's influence—would have galaxy-changing repercussions._


	25. Friend or Foe

_Author's Note: Readers should know that my choice in putting this mission here was made for purely creative reasons—such as finally answering the long-standing question of whether Shepard would stay celibate—not the desire to skip to the ending without finishing off the rest of the loyalty missions. _

**Chapter 18: Friend or Foe**

My plan was to wait a bit before tracking down that Reaper IFF. Yeah, I knew that we'd need it to get through the Omega 4 relay and lay the smack down on the Collectors, but we had absolutely no freaking clue what was on the other side. How many ships? What kind of defences? Were the Collectors actually on some kind of space station or were they living on a planet that had somehow resisted being torn apart by all the black holes?

The answer to all those questions was a big honkin' 'Who knows,' which meant waltzing through the Omega 4 relay to face the Collectors on their home turf was pretty much the best way to get killed. **(1)** After spending every freaking day strolling into deathtraps, I was in no rush to intentionally sally forth to my demise. Besides, there were still plenty of upgrades to research for the squad and the Normandy. Might as well do what I could to improve my odds from 'Doomed' to 'Virtually Doomed'.

But I wound up looking for the Reaper IFF after all.

I could say I did it because EDI had run thousands of simulations and extrapolations, all of which said that it would take a hell of a lot longer to install the Reaper IFF and fully integrate it with the Normandy's systems than originally planned. So it would be more efficient to get the IFF now and start installing it while we continue pursuing upgrades (and dealing with whatever personal crises the squad threw at me next).

But if I have to be honest, I ultimately went after the Reaper IFF because my fish died.

Don't ask me how. I'm sure I stuffed their gills full of fish food every time I entered a new system. Every time I entered a new cluster. Every time I finished a mission. Yet somehow, I woke up one morning to find all the fish belly-up, floating along the surface of my aquarium. After retrieving the dead fish and flushing them down the drain—no, I wasn't going to give them to Grunt. He was still intent on emptying out the pantry, not to mention making Gardner lose what was left of his hair. Giving him extra food would just encourage him—I faced a choice of flying all the way back to Illium, fighting through the crowds, finding new fish, paying hundreds of credits for them (at least), returning to the Normandy, fly to the Citadel and repeat the whole tedious process... or I could scrounge through a Reaper's innards for loot.

I chose the latter. Big surprise, I know.

For once, TIMmy's intel was on the spot. The derelict Reaper was indeed orbiting belly up—if Reapers _have _bellies—like a dead fish or bug around a brown dwarf in the middle of the Hawking Eta cluster. I'd never visited a brown dwarf before, so I didn't know what to expect. I certainly didn't expect enough turbulence to make everybody who had eaten breakfast regret it. Sidestepping a pile of puke, I entered the cockpit and almost toppled over. Catching myself against the pilot's chair in the nick of time, I asked "What's with all the chop, Joker?"

"Doing my best," Joker replied over the rumble of all the vibrations, struggling to keep the Normandy on course. "The wind's gusting to 500 kph."

Thankfully, the turbulence from all the solar winds didn't affect the sensors. "Found the Cerberus ship. It's attached to the dorsal side of the Reaper." Joker frowned as something else caught his attention. "There's a second ship alongside the Reaper," he said, pulling the details up on one of his monitors. "It's not transmitting any IFF, but the ladar paints its silhouette as geth."

Great. The mission was starting to go south and it hadn't even started yet. "I guess we know why the science team stopped reporting in," I sighed.

A minute later, the shaking suddenly subsided. "What just happened?"

Joker ran a quick scan. "The Reaper's mass effect fields are still active," he reported, turning back to look at me. "We just passed inside their envelope. Eye of the hurricane, huh?"

An artificially-generated eye, but Joker had a point. I couldn't help but be impressed again by the Reapers. This guy had been dormant for X years, but it still had enough power to generate mass effect fields. Somehow, though, I had the feeling that that should tell me something. I thought about it for a minute, then gave up and left the cockpit to go rustle up the squad.

In hindsight, I should have taken a couple more minutes to think about it.

* * *

><p>If we still had any lingering illusions that everything was right as rain, the dead body that greeted us when we left the airlock dispelled them in a heartbeat. It was lying in a pool of blood, with several blood splatters on the wall. Grunt sniffed it. "Smells bad," he reported. "The blood, I mean. Something's wrong with it."<p>

Garrus sighed in resignation. "Exploring an abandoned area filled with dead bodies, expecting something mechanical or nasty to jump out at you—just like old times."

"Which means you know what we're gonna do next," I said cheerfully.

Garrus and Tali nodded. "Poke in every nook and cranny," Tali replied.

"And take anything that isn't nailed or welded down," Garrus added.

I felt so proud.

We spread out as soon as we entered the main part of the ship. It didn't take long before we'd accrued a nice sum of credits. More importantly, we came across a log from the lead researcher, Dr. Chandana:

"_The airlock has been installed at the far end of the holed section. We have begun pressurization for shirtsleeves work."_

Translation: they installed an airlock between the Cerberus ship and the Reaper and started establishing an atmosphere inside the latter so they wouldn't have to stumble around in not-so-sexy hardsuits. The things people do for fashion.

"_The crew is edgy. I reassure them it is mere nerves. A superstitious reaction to what this hulk represents—the corpse of a vast, ancient life-form."_ Chandana leaned forward before concluding the log: _"Privately, I can't deny the atmosphere. The angles of the walls seem to press down on you. I find myself clenching my teeth."_

With that reassuring thought in mind, we continued our exploration. Beyond the area we had explored lay another computer console, a few medical stations and the airlock Chandana had just mentioned. I activated the log, listening to some random guy while swiping some medi-gel:

"_We finished cataloguing specimens A203 to B016. No evidence of active nanotechnology noted. Dr. Chandana believes they would have decayed over the last 37 million years. There's not enough data to support his claim. He asserts that the truth is 'patently obvious.' I am... concerned. Chandana has been staring at the samples for hours. He says he's 'listening' to them."_

That niggling feeling I had in the cockpit came the Reaper had enough juice to maintain a mass effect field to counter the gravitational pull of a brown dwarf, it wasn't unreasonable to guess it might have some spare juice to brainwash a bunch of organic dupes. I exchanged an uneasy look with the squad. "Indoctrination?" I suggested.

"It's too early to say for certain but, given the evidence we've found so far and the team's prolonged exposure to a Reaper, it seems like a reasonable theory," Miranda allowed.

"All right," I announced. "Feeling nervous is one thing—we're about to waltz inside the belly of a Reaper, after all. But if anyone starts getting headaches, feels some scratching or tickling at the back of their head, or thinks someone or something is trying to whisper or talk to them, let us know ASAP so we can get the hell out of here. Got it?"

After receiving a chorus of affirmatives, I led the squad towards the airlock. I tried to ignore the fact that if anyone was actually noticing symptoms associated with indoctrination, it was probably too late for all of us. Reaching over, I slapped the door controls. A split second before it opened, the whole ship shook. It was all we could do to stay on our feet.

"_Normandy to shore party,"_ Joker called out over the comm. _"Everyone okay over there?"_

I reached up to my helmet to open the comm channel. "Joker, we're fine. What just happened?"

"_The Reaper just put up kinetic barriers. You won't be able to get back to the shuttle."_

"You've got to be kidding me," Jacob groaned. "Can you guys do anything about that?"

"_We've been trying,"_ Joker replied. _"EDI can't find any open ports to hack. I don't think we can get through from our side."_

"So we're trapped," Thane said quietly. "How disquieting."

"That's it?" Jack demanded. "We're fucking trapped and all you've got to say is that it's 'disquieting?'"

"Could be worse," Kasumi suggested.

"How so?" Samara asked.

Kasumi shrugged. "Don't know, but... I guess it could be full of rats."

Well at least no one was losing it. Yet. "Sounds like we have to take down the barrier generators from in here," I said. "Any idea where they are?"

"Kinetic barriers can only be generated by a mass effect generator," Miranda suggested. "That's true of any ship, even a Reaper. EDI, can you—"

"_At the moment of activation, I detected a heat spike in what is likely the wreck's mass effect core," _EDI interrupted, anticipating the obvious request. _"Sending the coordinates now."_

"Got 'em," I confirmed.

"_Be advised: this core is also maintaining the Reaper's altitude."_

Aw, crap. "So when we take the barriers down to escape, the wreck won't be able to resist the gravitational pull any longer and the whole thing will fall into the planet's core," I summarized.

"_And that means everyone dies,"_ Joker finished. _"Yeah, I got it. I'll pencil a 'last-minute pickup' into the itinerary."_

"If any helmsman can pull us off this thing before it reaches crush depth, it's you," I said reassuringly. "I mean, after pulling off an impossible Mako drop on Ilos, this should be a piece of cake."

"_Right. No pressure. Great."_ The anticipation in Joker's voice belied the sarcasm and concern behind his words. No doubt he was eager to put his skills to the test.

"We'll make a sweep for survivors and recover what data we can," I concluded. "Stand by."

"_Aye, aye,"_ Joker said. _"I'll bring the shuttle back to the Normandy via remote and wait for your signal. Good hunting."_

* * *

><p>The first thing we saw upon entering the Reaper was all the catwalks, railings and lighting. Clearly Cerberus didn't want to blindly stumble around Reaper guts. The second thing we saw were three more withered bodies laying on the ground in dried pools of their own blood.<p>

"Did the geth do all this?" Tali whispered.

Out of habit, Garrus kneeled down to check them out. "Everyone's dead," he sighed, getting back to his feet. "I've seen this too many times."

"What a mess," Grunt agreed. At least, I though he agreed before he added "Anyone else hungry?"

Shaking my head, I took a good look around. The only illumination seemed to come from the lighting that the Cerberus staff had installed, which revealed a vast, cavernous expanse. In terms of size, it almost reminded me of the Collector ship we'd visited earlier. Only that ship, for all its techno-organic weirdness, looked almost warm with its earth-toned hive walls. The Reaper had nothing but cold, dark metal as far as the eye could see. Large, thick cables ran all over the place, like a crude, synthetic approximation of an organic's innards. Here and there I could see free cables dangling from the ceiling. Lights shone down from above, lighting up the expanse while shrouding the rest in ominous shadows. Somehow that didn't make me feel any better—it just felt so... so cold. Cold, uncaring and utterly relentless.

And it was so _quiet_. Usually, you can't walk anywhere on a ship without hearing the hustle and bustle of people and random conversations. Even on cutting-edge ships like the Normandy, you could still hear the quiet hum of machinery and equipment. Here, I heard... nothing. I'm not normally the kind who gets easily scared, but even I was finding this place really creepy. We started off boldly exploring the insides of an actual Reaper, but only now did we realize what that meant. We were crawling around like ants through an alien metropolis, blind to what might be lurking around the corner, deaf to what was hidden just off in the shadows. For all my training, for all my experience, for all the collective growth and evolution of humanity, this Reaper somehow managed to knock us hurtling back to the primal, instinctive ancestors inside us. Those primitive creatures who were so small. So insignificant.

Taking a deep breath, I stuffed the gibbering, panicked part of me—the sensible part, in other words—in a corner of my mind and led the squad to the nearest computer console. I managed to pull up the last work log stored in its buffer. It showed two people talking near the corner of some room on the Cerberus ship:

"_You're married?"_ one of them asked. _"You never mentioned that."_

"_Yeah, though it wasn't always easy,"_ the other one replied. _"Katy had anger management issues. When my brother got married, the best man tried to hit on her. She kicked him down the church steps."_

The first guy looked at him in confusion. _"Wh—? Katy's my wife! I—I must have told you the story."_

"_No,"_ the other guy insisted. _"I know my wife. I remember—that day was the only time I saw her wear stockings."_

"_Yeah,"_ the first guy nodded slowly. _"The kind with seams up the back. That's what I remember, too."_

"_What the hell is this?"_ the second guy wondered. _"How can we remember the same thing?"_

"Memory alteration," Mordin concluded. "Reapers affecting their minds. Likelihood of geth involvement increasingly unlikely."

"They must have come to make sure the Cerberus team are all dead," Tali disagreed.

Maybe, but that didn't seem to track for some reason. I was about to say as much when I heard a moan up ahead.

Aw, crap.

We quickly assumed positions. Team One, unfortunately, was in the lead. I glimpsed Team Two splitting up to hug the sides of the catwalk. Good move on Garrus's part—if we had to retreat, it would be more effective for Team One to squeeze between Team Two and assume new firing positions so we could leapfrog back to the Cerberus ship. I tried to ignore the fact that it would be a dead end, thanks to the Reaper barriers.

It's a testament to how unlucky things had been for me that when the abomination stepped out of the shadows, all I could think was—_phew_, that I can handle. Without thinking, I set it on fire. Grunt blew it away with a concussive round.

"Shep," Kasumi hollered over the din, pointing to a few interesting items. "High-pressure tanks," she identified. "One shot oughta set them off. Think our buddies are allergic to having their asses burned off?"

"Probably," I yelled back. "Don't detonate them unless there's a large grouping of husks."

"Or unless we're about to be overwhelmed," Miranda added, stripping the armour off of a husk with her biotics. Garrus promptly swivelled and planted a concussive round into its kisser.

"Less chatting, more shooting," Zaeed snapped. He tossed one of his inferno grenades, which exploded over a pair of husks. By the time they had gotten through the flames, Jack was already sending a biotic shockwave their way. Of course, no sooner were they out of the way then another three husks showed up. Grunt let out a mighty roar and charged, knocking them all over. It was pretty easy to finish them off after that.

"Well," I sighed. "Let's move—"

"Look out!"

I promptly ducked, glimpsing Mordin's plasma fire and a whole lot of gunfire. A second later, I felt an explosion. Looking around, I saw the remnants of an abomination scattered across the catwalk.

Samara helped me back to my feet. "I had heard that the geth made these... creatures."

"We thought so initially, but recent evidence suggested otherwise," Miranda corrected her. "I'd say this confirms it as Reaper tech."

"Not that it matters to these guys," Jacob said.

I spotted another workstation up ahead. Just as I was about to check it out, another moan rang out. Looking around, I saw a couple husks and an abomination. They'd been hiding underneath the catwalk all this time. Seeing them pull themselves up onto the floor was kinda creepy. Like one of those high-res horror vids. Miranda immediately attacked one with her biotics. I finished that one off with a fireball while Thane and Mordin did something similar to another one. Zaeed tossed another grenade at the abomination and Garrus blew it—and another husk—to kingdom come.

Unfortunately, by the time those guys were down, another four or five husks had already pulled themselves from their hiding places and were standing up.

"Retreat!"

We frantically started backpedalling, firing on the go. In desperation, Kasumi tossed one of her flashbang grenades, no doubt hoping that its concussive blast would slow them down. If we were lucky, maybe all the circuitry in their bodies might be temporarily fried—

_BOOM!_

Along with the circuitry in the high-pressure tanks. I watched as all the husks were promptly disintegrated, then turned to Kasumi. "Did you do that on purpose?"

Kasumi looked back at me with a stunned expression on her face. "Um... sure?"

"Do you think that we've cleared the area?" Garrus asked, getting back to business.

"In our immediate vicinity, yes," Samara replied. "Though I sense there are more adversaries lurking nearby."

"So someone's gotta act as bait to lure the fuckers out," Jack said.

Kinda like the horror vids, where some idiot blundered into a creepy, abandoned place and chose to continue forward instead of running back out. Three guesses who that idiot would be?

I moved towards the console I'd spotted earlier. Nothing. Took a step further. Nothing. I paused to enjoy the quiet—which didn't seem quite so ominous anymore. Somehow, knowing what kinds of ravenous, mindless dangers were out there was better than letting my overactive imagination speculate wildly—before taking another step. The back of my neck started to tingle, just before three more husks poked their ugly heads up and moaned at me. I shot a fireball towards one of them and promptly hauled ass back to the squad. We waited until they all stood up before pelting them with biotics, plasma and concussive rounds. As soon as they were down, we waited for any stragglers. Nothing. So I took a couple steps forward and...

...heard another moan.

Oh for crying out loud.

Another pair of husks popped up. And an abomination. I blasted the armour off the latter and ran back to the squad, who were already locked and loaded. We took the suckers down one by one. Then I slowly walked back to the console, waited, took a few more steps, waited. Took a few more steps. Waited.

Nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked back to the console. We pulled up another log and watched it, nervously keeping an ear out for any more moaning.

"_Third day with this headache," _one of the scientists grumbled. _"You'd think Chandana would have let me take a few hours off—_goddamn!"

"_What?"_ his companion yelled.

"_That thing that just… gray thing!"_ the first guy sputtered. _"It disappeared when I looked straight at it. Came out of the damn wall! Right there—where we took off that panel."_

The second guy looked around in confusion. _"I didn't see anything. You should lie down."_

"_I__'m telling you, this ship isn't dead,"_ Guy Number One insisted. _"It knows we're inside it."_

"_Calm down,"_ the second guy groaned, rubbing his head. _"Great. Now I'm getting a headache."_

Now I was definitely getting a case of the jitters. Getting a tighter grip on my sniper rifle, I motioned for the squad to continue. We headed up a ramp onto another catwalk. Looked like there was a bit of loot here.

Recalling where all the fun had just come from, I was paying close attention to the ground. I glimpsed some movement just before two husks started to emerge.

Then two shots rang out, killing both husks. Well, not rang as much as zipped. I knew that sound. Only one thing made that sound.

"Sniper!" Zaeed yelled, confirming my suspicions.

Whirling around on the spot, I crouched, raised my sniper rifle and peered through the scope. I caught a brief glimpse of our benefactor, but he—she, it—disappeared before I could get a good look. Lowering my sniper rifle, I reported what I sort of saw to the squad.

"Someone nailed those husks for us," Jacob said tensely. "Who?"

"I couldn't see the shooter," Garrus murmured, lowering his own sniper rifle. "A survivor from the science team?"

"Scientists unlikely to have facility with sniper rifles," Mordin pointed out.

"Unlikely, but not impossible," Thane said. "Of course, the shooter could be part of the security escort."

"Wherever he or she came from, maybe we'll meet the guy and return the favour," I replied. "For now, let's see what we can find."

We found plenty of goodies. Creds, platinum, thermal clips, power cells. And best of all—another weapon schematic. Looked like something that could upgrade our sniper rifles. Somehow, all of this made the giant, eerily quiet place seem a little less creepy.

It was with some reluctance that I turned left, stepping over the husks that our mysterious sniper had taken out. We reached a set of pillars with stairs on either side heading down a few steps. Up ahead was... well, a familiar and disturbing sight. But we could worry about that later. For now, I got Team One to cover the left stairs and Team Two to take care of the right.

"Anyone want to knock and see if anybody's home?"

No takers. Figures. Sighing, I ventured out myself. Sure enough, an abomination and a husk started pulling themselves out from underneath the floor. I immediately set the abomination on fire. Somebody finished it off with a concussive round. Mordin and Garrus took out the husk in a similar fashion. Miranda and Grunt tag-teamed another husk who was getting to its feet. That left another husk, who became the next volunteer to get a fireball to the face. A couple bursts of gunfire finished it off.

Another two husks stepped out from around a pillar and started loping towards us. Zaeed tossed an inferno grenade, which exploded at their feet. Miranda and I put them down with a combination of biotics and high-energy plasma. The rest of the squad took care of yet another pair of husks who had reared their ugly faces.

We had just enough time to pop in fresh thermal clips before the next wave of bad guys came. At first, all we heard were their deranged moans, rising in an unholy crescendo faster than we'd ever heard before. My eyes popped as my HUD got cluttered with contacts. Two... three... four...

"Commander?" Jacob said nervously.

"Guys," I said slowly. "Don't freak out."

Six... eight... _ten_...

"Oh, I don't know," Kasumi replied, a faint quiver in her voice despite her best efforts to mask it. "Now seems like an excellent time to freak out."

Eleven husks. One abomination. A scion. And... well, after that, I lost count.

Aw, crap.

"Target the husks. No, wait, the abomination. Target the abomination and the husks," I ordered. At least, I think I ordered. No one was shooting, paralyzed with terror as this inhuman horde came barrelling towards us.

"_SOMEBODY FIRE!" _I yelled.

That did it. The squad opened fire, mowing down the first few husks. But there were so many more...

One of the many useful terms you learn during Basic is 'target-rich environment.' The idea being that there are so many targets, accuracy is no longer an issue as you're bound to hit something. It's great when you have some distance. It sucks when that target-rich environment is coming towards you, intent on rending you to your basic components.

A frantic volley of biotics, plasma, concussive rounds and gunfire shredded the abomination and a couple more husks, but there were more behind them. Much more. My ears started to ring with all the gunfire thundering around me. I vaguely recall blasting the armour off of a husk, only to watch in dismay as two more intact husks joined it. A bright flash signalled Kasumi trying to buy some time with her flashbang grenade. Tali did the same with her combat drone, but it was quickly swamped by another wave of husks. Or was it the trio of husks I'd seen earlier. Couldn't tell. Everything was quickly devolving into a big mess.

"Retreat," I howled, hoping everyone could hear me over the comm. Team One and I quickly started falling back. Team Two started, but got bogged down in husks. Moans fought with gunfire and desperate cries. And that scion was getting closer and closer.

"Team Two, hang on," I yelled out. "Team One—" I stopped as I saw Grunt charging towards the mob, roaring all the way. "Team One follow Grunt," I finished.

I was pleased to see that Grunt hadn't completely lost it. He'd taken the liberty of activating a feature we'd recently added to his hardsuit, which sprayed a non-Newtonian fluid over his armour capable of hardening upon impact for added protection. Coupled with the velocity he was building up during his charge, his inherent regenerative abilities and his undeniably effective melee combat prowess, he was perfectly capable of holding his own. Sure enough, Grunt slammed through and trampled over three husks before shooting another one at point-blank range with his shotgun. That gave Jack the opportunity she needed to push the remaining husks back with a biotic shockwave.

Now that they had some breathing room, Team Two could start dealing with the husks. Jacob levitated a couple up into the air while Zaeed blew one apart with a concussive round. Tali finished off another husk who was still running around on the ground while Miranda detonated the biotic field. I aimed at another husk, sent another plasma round its way and assessed the situation. The good news, there was only two husks left, one of whom had definitely taken some damage.

The bad news: both Garrus and Mordin were unconscious and the scion was starting to climb the stairs towards us. "Jacob, Zaeed; pick up the wounded and get out of there!" I ordered. "Team One, tackle the husks and hold that scion at bay!"

Grunt finished the weaker husk off while Kasumi tossed another flashbang at the other husk to stun it. Samara took it out with her assault rifle while I snapped off a quick shot at the scion from my sniper rifle. Anything to weaken the sucker. Tali sent her combat drone to stall the scion before leaning over to pick up Garrus. Unfortunately, the scion fired off a biotic shockwave, which shredded the drone and knocked Tali out. Jack quickly doubled back and yanked her out of harm's way while Zaeed somehow managed to toss another inferno grenade while carrying Garrus over his shoulder.

Team One stayed put, laying down fire so Team Two could get clear. We were kind of stuck with the wall on one side and Team Two passing by on the other. So we didn't have anywhere to go when the scion sent another shockwave. Thankfully, our shields were at full strength and took the brunt of it.

"Everyone ready," I called out. A chorus of "Ready's" came back. "Then fire at will!"

A barrage of biotics and plasma flew towards the scion, impacting against its misshapen hide. I decided it was time to try another shot from my sniper rifle. This time, I had the time to scan for a weak point before firing. That made all the difference, I saw, as the scion disintegrated under the impact.

"Team One, take up firing positions around Team Two and make sure no one else is coming," I said, as the scion fell apart. "Jacob, see how the rest of Team Two are doing."

"I'm fine," Garrus groaned. "Worry about Mordin and Tali." He declined an offered hand from Jacob, struggling to his feet.

"You really are a tough son of a bitch," Jacob laughed.

"And still ugly as hell," Jack chimed in.

Mordin came to a minute later, but he was still a bit groggy. While we were waiting for Tali to wake up, I sent Thane and Samara back to scoop up any thermal clips we'd left behind back in the corridor. We'd burned through a lot of them this time and it was well past time to restock. By the time they came back and distributed the clips, everyone had recovered and no more bad guys had showed up. It looked like we were in the clear. Breathing a sigh of relief, I led the team towards the sight I'd spotted earlier.

Several spikes, pointing upward. Each with a human dangling from its tip. "I've seen those things before," Jacob exclaimed. "On Eden Prime."

"Garrus and I encountered these devices after joining up with Shepard to hunt Saren," Tali added. "Trebin, the Citadel during the geth invasion. What were they called?"

"'Dragon's teeth,'" Garrus supplied the answer.

I nodded absently. Something about this place was bugging me. Then it came to me. I took a closer look, just to make sure. The more I looked, the more I felt my instinct was bang-on. "Guys, look around. "See how this room is arranged?"

Miranda figured it out first. "Large room, almost Gothic in scope, designed to place that as the focus of attention," she said, pointing to a large set of vertical cables or tubes that resembled some kind of pillar or totem. The vertical set of dragon's teeth was placed right in front of it. Two more sets of dragon's teeth—horizontally positioned—were set a bit farther back.

"Exactly," I nodded. "Combine that with the way the dragon's teeth are stationed in front of that thing and the way the bodies are positioned as they are impaled—it's like that structure's some kind of altar."

"You're saying they wanted to be... to have this done to them?" Jacob sputtered.

Wasn't that hard to imagine, I decided. The Reaper's insides were already making everyone feel insignificant, pitiful and absolutely horrified. By the time they reached this unholy shrine, they'd be so filled with terror that it would be a toss-up between dropping to their knees or saying goodbye to the last vestiges of their collective sanity. Especially the way the angles in this place seemed to expand outwards indefinitely and press down on us relentlessly at the same time. But I couldn't say that, not without dissolving into a fit of hysterical giggles. "You heard the logs," I shrugged instead. "They were seeing things. Hearing things. They were being indoctrinated. So yeah, by the end, they probably did want this done to them.

"This probably hits close to home, Jacob," I added, remembering that he was stationed on Eden Prime during the geth attack and would probably be more affected by the dragon's teeth than anyone in the squad who hadn't been with me two years ago. "How you holding up?"

"Five by five," he reassured me.

"How about the rest of you?" I moved on. "Anyone experience any hallucinations so far? See anything weird?"

"Seeing things? Nah," Zaeed snorted. "But we've been watchin' vids of the last guys here getting' more and more whacko or seeing husks crawl outta the goddamn floor. Doesn't that seem kinda weird to you?"

Everyone else agreed that they were creeped out, but weren't feeling the urge to start lighting incense or anything. I hoped they were right. Everything I'd seen and read so far indicated that it would take a lot longer before any of us started to feel the effects of indoctrination. Still, I definitely wanted this mission over ASAP. The sooner we could find the Reaper IFF, the sooner we could leave. And given what happened to Chandana and his men, Cerberus or not, the fact that leaving would mean destroying the Reaper was a welcome bonus. "Then let's keep going," I decided. "And remember: we can't help these people now," I decided. "Not anymore. But we won't let the Reapers use their corpses like this."

Before we left, I saw another computer console. I found the most recent log and played it, almost dreading what I might see and hear. A man popped up on the screen, staring vacantly at us. He completely ignored the blood splatter all over his face, so eager was he to share his warped discovery:

"_Chandana said the ship was dead. We trusted him. He was right. But even a dead god can dream. A... a god—a real god—is a verb. Not some old man with magic powers. It's a _force_. It warps reality just by being there. It doesn't have to want to. It doesn't have to think about it. It just _does_." _

The man shuddered, dropping his head into his hands as he continued, his voice a mixture of dread and awe. _"That's what Chandana didn't get. Not until it was too late. The god's mind is gone but it still _dreams_. He knows now. He's tuned in on our dreams. If I close my eyes I can feel him. I can feel every one of us."_

I thought I'd been freaked out before. By the Collectors on Horizon. By the latest Cerberus atrocity. By the Collectors again on their giant ship of horrors. By this Reaper. But this… this took things to a whole new level. I was reminded again of good ol' Lovecraft. **(2) **

Maybe he was on to something after all.

* * *

><p>Before they'd gone batshit crazy, the Cerberus team had installed an airlock in this room. Based on the scans from my sensors and the Normandy's—the latter of which was provided courtesy of EDI—the airlock would lead into the exterior section of the Reaper. Yeah, the fastest way to the mass effect core was to go inside the Reaper, then along its outside, then go back <em>inside<em>. Just trust me on this one.

"_Please stand by,"_ an automated voice chimed out, after I bypassed the airlock controls. _"Equalizing pressure with exterior conditions. Remember, safety is everyone's concern. We have gone five days without a workplace death."_

We all looked at Miranda. Even Jacob. "First, not all Cerberus bases employ these announcement protocols," she stated with more than a hint of exasperation. "Second, if someone did want to use them, the protocols also account for workplace _incidents _that are non-fatal. The most likely explanation is that the last team member who had resisted had either succumbed to indoctrination or was killed five days ago."

She was probably right. It was still funny, though. In a really morbid kind of way. Boy, do I need a life or what?

The inside had warmer lighting. Not that it made it any more welcome, but the lighting had more yellow and orange hues as opposed to cold, stark blue and white. There were lots of tanks with Cerberus logos everywhere. Either someone on the Cerberus team loved graffiti or they'd set up shop inside.

Something wasn't right, though. It took a second before I realized the back of my neck was tingling. Not sure why, but I automatically lifted my sniper rifle up and started panning it around. Following my cue, we all started lifting our weapons and looking around for bad guys.

So it was a bit embarrassing when the threat came from _behind _us. The first warning of the ambush was when I heard the _zip_ of a sniper rifle pass right over my ear and hit something. Whirling around, I looked in the dead, glowing eyes of a husk—then up at the neat hole that had been drilled into its head. A second shot hit another husk right between the eyes.

Two headshots. Two dead targets. All within a second.

We were still processing our near demise, so we were a little slow to train our weapons on the third husk. Luckily for us, our mysterious benefactor was a bit more on the ball and sniped it, just as the first two husks collapsed. Again, aperfect headshot. I turned around to thank him or her...

...or...

...huh.

Turned out our mysterious sniper pal...

...was a geth.

Even though it was standing on a ledge about a hundred metres away, I could still tell that it was a bit different from any geth I'd seen before. Most geth don't sport shoulder pauldrons from N7 hardsuits. Most geth don't walk around with large gaping holes through its torso.

"Shepard-Commander."

And most geth don't speak English.

We just stood there, stunned and slack-jawed. Apparently unimpressed by our brilliant and witty reply, it holstered its sniper rifle and left. "Well," I said at last. "That was different."

Garrus scratched his head. "So the sniper that helped us earlier was a geth. Since when do geth talk to organics?"

"It shouldn't be _able_ to talk," Tali protested. "A single geth has no more intelligence than a _varren_."

"Which brings up another point," Miranda added, "since when do geth operate alone? They get smarter in proportion to the number of geth in the vicinity." **(3)**

Grunt snorted, eschewing all these mysteries for something much simpler. "Battlemaster, since it knows you, tell it I don't need its help." At first I thought he meant he didn't need its help in general. Then I heard all the moaning. I turned around, hoping that we could retreat through the airlock and use it to funnel the geth into one nice tight kill-zone. Of course, the damn thing was sealed and the lock was damaged. "Team One on the left; Team Two on the right," I ordered. "Weapons free."

I like to think that we had recovered from the novel combo of creepy space zombies and creepier lair, because the squad opened fire immediately. Thane hit an abomination with his biotics and I blew it up with a plasma round before it could blow up in our faces. Miranda used her biotics in a similar fashion on one of the husks, clearing the way for Grunt to shoot it in the face with a concussive round. Kasumi took a few more seconds to punch through another husk the old-fashioned way—with gunshots—but once she had dealt enough damage, Samara took it out of the fight by encasing it in a biotic field and sending it up, up and away. Meanwhile, Mordin and Zaeed had roasted another pair of husk. After Jacob yanked them up into the air, Garrus sent one flying away with a concussive round while Tali shot it out of the sky with her shotgun. I motioned for Jack to wait until I fried another husk with a fireball so she could bowl three husks over like bowling pins instead of two. Then the squad opened up on the gruesome trio with mass gunfire.

There didn't seem to be any more husks coming, for now, so we took advantage of the lull to reload. I glanced outside and saw what looked like lightning. I didn't know brown dwarfs had lightning. Anyway, after stocking up on thermal clips, I took a look around. It seemed the only path available for us was down a flight of stairs and along a catwalk, which wrapped around a corner. I placed Team Two at the railing overlooking the catwalk to cover our backs and led Team One down the stairs.

The moaning that rang out when we were halfway down reminded me why I hated playing the part of the hero.

Looking around, I saw an abomination and a husk pull themselves onto the catwalk below us and to the right. Above and to the left, I saw the bulbous mass of a scion lumber along. "Keep an eye on the scion so you don't get hit," I told everyone as Team One scurried back to join the others, "but focus on the husks for now."

Easier said than done, as it turned out. The damn scion couldn't get to us directly, so it had to take the long way around, but it could still hit us with its biotic shockwave. Meanwhile, the husks—along with the occasional abomination—just kept coming. We'd burn and blast and shoot one down, only to see two more take its place. It wasn't long before all semblance of tactics fell apart and we just frantically started shooting anything that glowed, moaned and wasn't one of us. Things got even more desperate as the scion lumbered into view, heading towards the stairs to join the four or five husks that were already milling around down there. They hadn't quite figured out that they could charge us, but that wouldn't last long. "Grunt, get to the top of the stairs and make sure no one gets past you. Miranda, Thane—concentrate on the scion. Everyone else, take out the husks."

As Grunt headed over, Zaeed, Mordin and I rained hot plasma on the husks. At that point, they figured out that we were up here and started to ascend the stairs. Jack was waiting to knock them back down with a biotic shockwave, only to get knocked out by a shockwave from the scion.

Tali coaxed out her combat drone for another round of fun. "Go for the optics, Chikitta," she ordered. The combat drone chirped at her. Tali consulted her omni-tool, presumably to get the translation, and replied with a hint of exasperation: "Yes, I know that thing has more than one set of optics. Just pick one and go for it!"

Having resolved that bit of confusion, the drone zipped down the stairs towards the scion, past the husks that were getting knocked down or blown apart by concussive rounds. Seeing that the rest of the squad had things under control, I sent another burst of plasma towards the scion. Yet another agonizingly slow step towards killing the thing—

The damn scion took advantage of my distraction to hit me with its shockwave, shorting out Tali's drone and, more importantly, my shields. As if things couldn't get any worse, a pair of abominations rounded the corner. We frantically tried to take them out before they got to the stairs, but were unable to destroy them in time. Time seemed to slow down as they charged up the stairs, flames flickering over their bodies, and blew up in Grunt's face. Grunt reeled back, stumbled to his knees, got back up again...

...and collapsed. Down for the count. Aw, crap.

Another shockwave hit us, sending my vision into a bloody haze. I blurrily watched as Kasumi slumped to the ground, but not before sending a flashbang grenade flying towards it. The explosion didn't do too much damage to the scion, but it stunned it long enough for Miranda, Thane and Mordin to hit it with a barrage of biotic and plasma explosions. It recovered far too quickly and started up the stairs, which was probably why Jacob was shooting the sucker as fast as he could. Everyone was so freaked out, in fact, that they didn't really register the trio of husks who sprinted past the scion. Not until they got to the top of the stairs, that is.

I sprayed the trio with my submachine gun to get their attention. One of them took several bullets in the knees and fell over, but the other two whirled towards me. As they charged towards me, I ejected my thermal clip, loaded a new one, took a deep breath and cloaked.

The husks milled around me in confusion. I tried to get past them, but they kind of had me boxed in. And my shields hadn't regenerated yet, thanks to the cloak aborting the recharge cycle. This wasn't good. I closed my eyes, hoping they wouldn't maul my face too badly. Not after the scars had finally healed.

Then I heard a lot of gunfire, followed by several thuds.

I opened my eyes just as the cloak shut down. The dead bodies of the husks lay all around me. A bit farther away, I could see the stationary corpse of the scion. Everyone was starting to get to their feet now. We had made it.

After that harrowing adventure, I felt we all deserved a reward. So I led the squad in giving the scion a good kick before heading down the stairs and along the catwalk.

* * *

><p>We'd only gone a couple metres before ascending a flight of stairs to a ledge. There were a few terminals with open credit accounts, some medi-gel packs and plenty of thermal clips. All just sitting there waiting for some unscrupulous fellow to swipe. So I did.<p>

At the end of the ledge were two flights of stairs which headed down again. I had just started to move along when we heard another round of moaning. We took apart the first five or six husks and abominations, but then we saw another wave coming.

"Guys, would anyone mind backing up a bit? You know, so we can have more time to pick them off?"

The squad responded by backpedalling—yes, even diehards like Grunt and Jack. I quickly followed suit, but not before burning the armour off of another husk. By the time I got to them, I noticed that they'd parked themselves by the flight of stairs we'd taken to get up to this ledge. Good idea, I thought. That would allow us a clear path to retreat back to the airlock, if necessary, without cutting ourselves off.

Now that the husks were forced to charge along a narrow ledge, it was easy for us to concentrate our firepower and take them down one by one. The scion proved to be a little more difficult, since it was impervious to a lot of our specialized talents and had a lot more armour protecting its bulk, but we managed to take it out without too much trouble. After scrounging for thermal clips, which yielded a few extra items to swipe, we continued on our way. We headed up some stairs, hacked a terminal for creds, went down some stairs...

...and saw two scions step out from behind a pillar and lumber towards us. Plus three or four husks heralded the latest charge.

"Did anyone happen to find out just how many people were in this science team?" I asked idly as I sent off yet another fireball. "We've been running into a lot of husks lately."

"It does seem unlikely that the Collectors would have shipped over additional husks to reinforce the ones that were already being created here," Garrus agreed, blasting an abomination to pieces with a concussive round.

"Why are you complaining?" Grunt asked, honestly bewildered. "Aren't you having fun? I am. Just wish—" he stopped to knock a husk back with a concussive round from his shotgun, which he'd apparently switched to at some point. "Just wish we didn't have to retreat so often."

"Speaking of retreating," Miranda warned. "Those scions are getting awfully close—agh!" She broke off as a biotic shockwave from one of them took a good chunk out of her shields. Not to mention that another half dozen husks had reared their ugly heads.

"Okay," I decided. "That's enough for now. They want a piece of us? Well, they have to work for it. Fall back, everyone!"

Grunt was the only one to complain, of course, following us with a reluctant, "Yeah, yeah." We went back up the stairs, firing on the run, headed across the walkway and stopped when we got to the last flight of stairs. The husks obligingly ran after us, right into a merciless onslaught of biotics and concussive rounds. I joined in with my omni-tool and its fireballs, but I motioned for Mordin and Zaeed to hold back and listened for any more moaning.

Failing to hear any, I went forward with Mordin and Zaeed. We cautiously moved until we glimpsed one of the scions. I arbitrarily picked the left one and counted down. Then we simultaneously flamed the sucker and ran before the biotic shockwaves they sent in return could hit us. Miranda and Thane were next with their biotics. Then Mordin, Zaeed and I again. We kept taking turns until the first scion was taken down, and then repeated the same song and dance with the second one.

By this point, some of the squad were getting a little annoyed with this 'two steps forward, one step back' routine. Couldn't blame them, I was getting rather peeved myself. So I was delighted when the next wave of bad guys consisted of a handful of husks. After everything we'd been through, it was almost cathartic to just stand our ground and riddle their glowing bodies with holes. Especially when you could 'cap them in the knees and trip them over each other.

I took a moment afterwards to consult the map. It looked like we were almost at the core. All we had to do was go down a ramp, around a corner and down a small walkway.

Naturally we had just stepped around the corner when we saw two more scions standing guard. They started to stomp towards us as several husks struggled to pull themselves up from under the floor. I bit back a curse, racking my head for ideas.

Then I had one.

"Team Two, hold them off for now. Try to get the scions to follow you together. When you need to back up, let us know. Team One, follow me."

Everyone gave me a weird look but obeyed my orders. I led Team One back the way we came, pointing out various objects to grab and move as we went. After a couple seconds, they figured it out. We spent the next couple minutes lugging things forward. Grunt could tackle one by himself, but the rest of us needed to pair up. Except for Kasumi, who took it upon herself to make sure no one got the jump on us. Miranda tried to get that cushy job, but Kasumi pointed out that she was the one with the cloak. Meanwhile, Garrus kept us updated on how the team was doing. It seemed they had to backpedal a couple times when the husks got too close, but other than that, things were fine. The scions were still lumbering along, occasionally tagging one or two people when they were too slow. Garrus made sure to rotate the team line-up, sending his team members to the back whenever they got hit.

At last, we were ready. I gave the order to fall back, and then stepped to the side as Team Two barrelled past. I wasn't sure if they were eager to leave, see what my plan was or restock on thermal clips. That left Team One to slowly lure the scions after us. Step by step. Step by step. Once they were close enough, I lifted my arm, took careful aim, sent another fireball from my omni-tool...

...and detonated the pile of explosive crates that the team and I had stacked up.

The squad cheered as the scions were vaporized in the explosion. We even managed to take out a husk. Then we sauntered back towards the core, mercilessly gunning down husks before they could fully emerge from their hidey-holes.

"Okay, point out the core and I'll tear it up," Grunt growled.

"Then we get off the ship," Garrus added. "Fast."

I consulted the map stored in my hardsuit mainframe. "That way," I pointed. I led the team to a door. It was locked, of course, but I managed to bypass it. Nice change of pace to battle a decryption sequence instead of a mindless, moaning cybernetic zombie and its buddies. The door opened up to reveal another airlock. There was nothing inside it. Nothing except a portable safe full of credits.

And a small piece of equipment. It looked like a flat circuit board with a small cylinder protruding just off the centre. I leaned over and scanned it.

"Is that...?" Samara asked.

"Yep," I replied, looking at the results on my omni-tool. "The Reaper IFF."

"So the Cerberus team did recover it," Jacob said. "I guess they all got killed or indoctrinated before they could get it out of here."

"Or one of the science team removed it from somewhere else, got indoctrinated and brought it here," Miranda suggested, "to the most heavily protected part of the ship."

"Either way, we now have what we came for," I shrugged, picking it up and sticking it one of my hardsuit's few carrying pouches. "Now let's blow this popsicle stand."

I got a lot of blank looks. **(4)**

"Never mind," I sighed.

* * *

><p>I opened the airlock, lifted my foot to step forward and stopped myself just before I walked into the kinetic barrier blocking the way. Boy, would that have been embarrassing or what?<p>

Peering through the barrier, I noted several things. First, the room looked pretty big—par for the course where Reapers were concerned. Second, a narrow walkway stretched from the airlock to a console situated just in front of a large spherical shell containing a glowing ball of blue energy—probably the mass effect core. Third, the talking geth who'd greeted and saved us earlier was busy typing away at the console.

Fourth, several husks were sneaking up behind the geth.

The geth must have heard them, though, because it abruptly turned around and shot them all. Then it turned back and tapped another sequence into the console, shutting down the barrier. I was about to say... I dunno. What _do _you say to a geth? "Thanks for the assist" in binary?

While I was figuring that out, another trio of husks popped up. Before the geth could react, one of them took a swipe at it. The geth dropped like a rock and didn't move. Before the husks could make another move, we sprayed them with bullets. As the trio collapsed, I raised my sniper rifle and aimed at the mass effect core. Just before I pulled the trigger, though, a metal iris clamped shut over it.

"So much for that," I sighed. "Maybe we can hack it open aga—"

"Incoming!" Grunt roared.

A set of stairs at either end of the walkway went down either end to the main floor. At the edges, husks were pulling themselves out from under the floor—seriously, did _all _floors on Reapers have hollow spaces where husks and other creepy-crawlies could hide?—squeezing between the floor plates and the walls. We took the first couple out without a problem, but that left at least half a dozen. With several more right behind them. A quick glance back told me the airlock had sealed itself. And it didn't look like we'd be able to open it again anytime soon.

Once again, I thought to myself: aw, crap.

I hastily switched my sniper rifle for my submachine gun. With all the chaos that was about to ensue, I wouldn't have time to line up a nice clean shot. "Team One has point; head down to the left and take out any husks you see. Team Two, follow us and watch our six." **(5)**

Miranda and I took out a husk as we went down the stairs, followed shortly by Thane and Grunt. Kasumi and Samara bagged a third using nothing but bullets and increasingly foul language—well, Kasumi uttered a few choice words. The cacophony of explosions and gunfire behind me indicated that Team Two was having a similar encounter. I led the squad to the next set of stairs, noting the location of spare thermal clips and a laptop along the way.

Unfortunately, a pair of husks had beaten us to it, with several more clambering onto the floor. "Grunt, tackle the husks blocking the stairs," I decided. "Everyone else; take out those guys."

None of us were ready to whip off any biotics, fireballs or similarly fancy tricks, so we each picked a husk and gunned the ugly sucker down. I looked up to see how Grunt was doing. He had trampled over one of the husks, ripped its arm off and was enthusiastically beating the second husk to a pulp with it.

"Shepard," Garrus said, catching my attention. "We have a few too many husks on our heels."

"Right," I nodded. "Everyone up the stairs." We ran back onto the walkway. I saw six husks following us, one husk charging down the walkway in our direction and two husks struggling to pull themselves out on the other side of the room. "Follow me," I yelled.

I led the squad down the stairs to the right side of the room, quickly assigning husks to Team One. By then, we were ready to pummel them with biotics and concussive rounds. I motioned them to head towards the stairs closest to the airlock and turned back to see how Team Two was doing, setting a husk on fire in the process.

They were doing quite well. There were almost a dozen contacts on my HUD moving towards Team Two. As I watched, though, most of them blinked out. Only three of them reached the walkway, only to get stalled by Tali's combat drone. They came to a halt, apparently unsure as to the next course of action. Zaeed settled things by setting all three on fire with an inferno grenade, then stepping aside so Jack could knock all of them back with a biotic shockwave. I stared at my HUD, waiting for the next red dot to show up, and was delighted when none came. To make things even better, the iris surrounding the mass effect core retracted. I don't know whether that was by design or coincidence, but it was now wide open and vulnerable.

"Everybody scoop up thermal clips and meet me back in the walkway," I said. I took my own advice and replenished my stock, adding a few more creds to my collection from the laptop I saw earlier while I was at it. When I rejoined the squad back on the walkway, I laid out my plan: "I don't know how long that thing will stay open, so let's deal as much damage as we can. Sniper rifles, shotguns and so on."

"Too bad you didn't bring the Cain with you," Jacob observed. "It could take that thing out in one shot."

"The Illusive Man was too busy smoking his cigarettes to let me know there would be a space big enough to safely fire it without nuking the rest of us in the process," I shrugged, pulling out my CPB. **(6)** "Everyone ready? We fire in three... two... one... _GO_!"

A deafening roar rang out as the twelve of us fired our weapons, accompanied by a steady whine as my CPB sizzled out and chewed away at the mass effect core. According to my hardsuit sensors, that volley dealt quite a bit of damage to the giant sphere. Miranda quickly ran a scan and transmitted the results to our HUDs. It seemed our barrage had created a small microfracture. Excellent. "Again!" I ordered, still squeezing the CPB's trigger. "Target that weak point!"

The squad fired another round at the microfracture, then another. And another. Naturally, the thing was on the verge of falling apart when the iris closed over it. A second later, the not-so-melodious moaning rang out again.

"Oh come on," Jack burst out, giving voice to our sentiments. "We were _this _fucking close!"

"Here we go again," I sighed. "Same deal as before."

We led the husks on a merry chase, running round in circles and shooting anything that got too close. It took a couple minutes, but we eventually got rid of them. Then we restocked on thermal clips and assembled in front of the mass effect core, which was now open again. The squad was about to raise their weapons when I stopped them. I checked my heavy pistol. One more shot before the thermal clip was used up. I looked up, assessed the mass effect core's integrity with my sensors, raised my pistol and fired a single shot.

The ball of energy didn't dissipate as much as it shattered under the impact. Wreaths of blue energy started crackling around the now-hollow sphere. Shaking my head at the universe for making us go through that song and dance again for the sake of _one measly shot_, I scooped up a thermal clip, reloaded and ran along the walkway.

I stopped in front of the geth, who was still down for the count. A quick scan indicated there was still power running through the synthetic. It wasn't dead or destroyed, just temporarily offline. Who knew you could knock a geth unconscious?

"Shepard, want the geth for target practise?" Grunt offered generously.

"Leave it!" Jacob snapped. "No _way_ that thing reaches the Normandy!"

A moan interrupted us. Looking around, we saw at least three or four husks scrabbling for purchase on the floor to pull themselves up. "Tali," I said, turning back. "Didn't you mention during your Pilgrimage that it's almost impossible to find an intact geth? At least, one that isn't roaming around or shooting at you?"

"That's true," Tali conceded. "But... I'm not sure it's worth the risk."

Another moan caught our attention. There were ten husks surrounding us now. "There's no time to debate it," I said. "Grab the geth and let's get moving! Now!"

Grunt and I hauled the geth up, wrapped an arm around our shoulders and ran for the airlock, the rest of the squad close on our heels. Tali was already at the airlock, trying to hack the thing open. She threw up her hands, said something that probably didn't translate very well, yanked out a panel that I had completely missed and plunged her hands into the mess of wires. Whatever she did worked, because the airlock doors hissed open. Just in time, as the moans of all the husks behind us was starting to get a bit loud.

"Joker," I yelled as we barrelled through. "We're coming out and we're coming out hot!"

"_Roger that,"_ Joker replied. _"Normandy's en route. Just hang on, folks."_

"_Extraction point identified,"_ EDI added calmly. _"Sending coordinates and directions to your hardsuits."_

Following EDI's instructions, we reached the extraction point—a narrow catwalk running alongside the hull of the Reaper—within a minute. The Normandy showed up a second later. "Open the portside airlock," I ordered as the rest of the squad poured a constant stream of weapons fire into the husks.

"_Aye aye,"_ Joker replied, bringing the Normandy to a complete stop just metres from the Reaper's hull. Grunt and I rocked the geth back and tossed it forward. It seemed the mass effect fields hadn't completely shut down yet, because the geth floated across the vacuum of space and through the airlock instead of plummeting down towards the brown dwarf. I gave a brief sigh of relief that the geth didn't drop like a rock—and that my aim didn't send it bouncing off the side of the airlock. Boy would _that _have been embarrassing. "Okay, people," I called out. "Time to go!"

Miranda had already figured out the order in which we should depart for the Normandy and transmitted the queue to each of us. Following her instructions, we leapt for the airlock at our appointed time while the rest held the husks at bay. For some reason, I was the last one to jump. I couldn't believe even Miranda was intent on maintaining that stupid rep of mine.

"We're clear," I told Joker over the comm as my feet landed inside the Normandy's airlock. "Go!"

The airlock doors hissed shut and the Normandy pulled up, accelerating away from the Reaper as it finally succumbed to the brown dwarf's pull and plunged into its depths.

* * *

><p>Most of the squad headed for the armoury to drop off their weapons before returning to their usual haunts. The rest of us hauled the geth to EDI's AI core, which was only accessible through the sickbay. I guess Cerberus wanted to keep it in as inaccessible a spot as possible, which, on the Normandy, was behind two sets of doors that could be sealed with emergency biohazard quarantine protocols. There happened to be a small ledge at the back of the room, wide enough for someone to take a nap. Or drop a man-sized synthetic off.<p>

Tali took a little too much pleasure in slapping two gadgets on the geth. One of them was some sort of regulator that prevented it from powering itself up. The other was a shield module that channelled power from the geth to form a cocoon of kinetic energy, thereby preventing anyone from accidentally touching it. She volunteered to guard the geth herself, but one of the staff had just arrived, all suited up and armed. Besides, EDI informed her that Engineering needed her help. Something about Ken, pants, haggis and self-sealing stem bolts. I didn't ask.

After we returned our weapons to the armoury, Tali—reluctantly—departed. The rest of us assembled in the comm room.

"I think we need to discuss the unique piece of salvage we recovered," Miranda started. EDI obligingly pulled up a holographic picture of the geth above the table. "We all know that we need better equipment to fight the Reapers. An intact geth would be invaluable to Cerberus's cyberweapons division."

"We'll have to disagree on that, ma'am." The strength of Jacob's opinion was clear by his unusually formal mode of address. "I saw enough of these things on Eden Prime. I saw what they did. If you ask me, we oughta space it."

"Cerberus has a long-standing cash bounty for an intact geth," Miranda informed me. "I assure you, the reward is significant."

"Define significant," I requested.

"Enough to purchase that shotgun upgrade from Fortack's lab on Tuchanka."

Yikes. That _was _significant, I had to admit. And the idea of sneaking up on a hostile under cloak and blowing it away with a shotgun blast at point-blank range was kind of appealing. Still… "Let's not get too hasty," I cautioned. "I want to know why it has a piece of N7 armour strapped to its shoulder."

"Battle trophy, maybe?" Jacob guessed. "Would a machine care about that?"

"No," Miranda shook her head. "Trophies imply emotions that AIs don't have. I doubt it's more than a convenient field repair. Though I don't know why it couldn't find a similar piece of armour to seal the hole in its chest."

I leaned against the table and stared at the hologram. "I've killed hundreds of these things, but I've never had a chance to talk to one."

Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I honestly don't know what took them so long to figure that out. "Think about it: this one tried to communicate with us," I pointed out. "Hell, it probably saved our lives twice, if not three times. Why?"

"I don't know," Miranda admitted, "but reactivating the geth is a risk. If you do so, it should be for _humanity's_ best interests and not your _curiosity_." **(7) **

"I still think our 'best interests' involve an airlock," Jacob scowled, crossing his arms.

"Garrus," I said. "You've been awfully quiet. What do you think?"

"You know the risk, Shepard," he replied tersely. "That's all I'm going to say."

The tally was one for tossing it out the airlock, one for gift-wrapping it for Cerberus and one abstainment. Good thing this wasn't a democracy. "I'm not deciding one way or the other until I know what we've got here," I told them. "I want to start it up. Talk to it. Interrogate it if need be."

"If we activate it, there is no guarantee we can deactivate it again," Miranda reminded me. "Even with the devices Tali attached to it."

"Bullets can," Jacob said firmly.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "That's not what I—"

"All right," I interrupted. "Thank you—all of you—for your recommendations. I've made my decision."

Jacob shook his head and looked at Garrus. "Tali's gonna freak when she hears about this."

"When you get back to the armoury, double-check the arsenal," Garrus murmured back. "Make sure Tali didn't 'accidentally' take her shotgun with her."

Jacob nodded in agreement before tapping his omni-tool. The hologram switched from the geth to the reason we'd waded through hordes of mindless husks. "So what about this Reaper IFF?"

The Reaper IFF floated in front of us for a few seconds before it was replaced by EDI's avatar. "I have determined how to begin integrating it with our systems," it said. "However, the device _is_ Reaper technology. We must test it thoroughly before attempting to pass through the Omega 4 relay. It will take some time to properly integrate it with our own systems."

"Are we talking about hours?" I asked. "Days? Weeks?"

"Impossible to say: the technology is complex."

"Okay," I said. "Give it your top priority. I don't want it crashing on us just as we enter the Omega 4 relay or anything."

Jacob and Garrus left the comm room, the former pausing long enough to snap off a salute. Noticing that Miranda didn't follow them, I stayed behind. "Something you want to say?"

Instead of answering, she tapped a command into her omni-tool. The hologram—which had returned to an image of the Normandy—flickered momentarily, as did the lights. "I've disabled the security monitors in this room," she told me. "We have two minutes."

"Okay," I said. "What did you want to say, off the record?"

"As you know, I send regular reports to the Illusive Man to update our status. He is very pleased that you are fulfilling, if not exceeding, his expectations regarding the primary objectives of this mission—"

"To find out what the Collectors are up to and figure out a way to stop them," I clarified.

"Precisely," Miranda nodded. "In addition, I've been sending assessments on the secondary objectives—to evaluate your willingness to... formally become an active operative within Cerberus."

Gee. TIMmy wanted to headhunt me. Maybe he should have kept that in mind _before _screwing me over the first couple times. "How's that coming?" I asked instead.

"Not so well," Miranda admitted. "Your words and actions have made it quite clear that you regard this as an alliance of convenience rather than your first mission following recruitment. The Illusive Man hasn't actually approved any overt intervention or corrective measures. Yet. But reading between the lines, it's pretty clear that his patience has its limits."

"And that's where the geth comes in?" I guessed.

"Exactly." Miranda walked around the table as she elaborated. "It's true that having an intact geth to study would likely represent a quantum leap forward for Cerberus's cyberweapons research. In the short term, however, it would go a long way towards assuaging the Illusive Man's concerns regarding your compatibility with Cerberus."

Huh. "Out of curiosity, has he approved this private chat?"

Miranda paused for a moment before shaking her head.

Huh. "Well, I'm not about to pass up the chance to get some intel from this geth just because the Illusive Man's wondering why I haven't sent in my membership application."

"I figured as much," Miranda sighed, "but I had to try."

"True. Is that all?"

"It is."

Just before we left the comm room, I added "Thanks for the heads-up, Miranda."

"You're welcome, Shepard," she replied, shooting me a brief smile.

For some reason, that smile gave me this warm, tingly feeling.

* * *

><p>Without any other pressing matters, I resumed my usual routing of wandering aimlessly about the ship. It didn't take long before I reached the AI core. The guard saluted me when I entered. I saluted back before turning my attention to the geth. "I'm turning this thing back on," I told him. "Be ready."<p>

"Aye, aye."

Using my omni-tool, I raised a kinetic barrier around the geth. "I have isolated our systems and erected additional firewalls," EDI informed me. "I am prepared to resist any hacking attempts."

"Uh huh," I said. Activating my omni-tool, I began shutting off the doodads that Tali had slapped on the geth. I was glad I'd peeked over Tali's shoulder and memorized the access codes beforehand. It saved me from heading to Engineering to ask her for them myself, which would have resulted in several hours worth of arguments. The first step was to disable the shield module, which complied with a sharp _crack _and a flash of sparks that flickered over the geth.

Then I took a deep breath and entered in the second set of codes. This was it.

Another flash of sparks lit up the room. I glimpsed the geth's hand twitch out of the corner of my eye, but my attention was focused on its head. A small light situated about two o'clock to its flashlight head started to flicker. The flashlight head itself—which, up close, actually looked more like a long curved cable encased in a metal shell—begin to rotate around like a gear before suddenly blazing to life. The cable moved around, like a single eye checking things out. Then the geth sat up with a faint whirr of servomotors. It uttered a string of machine chatter before swinging its legs over and getting to its feet.

Then it stared at me. I stared back for a minute before deciding that trying to win a staring contest against a geth was a really stupid idea. "Can you understand me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Are you going to attack me?"

"No."

I could tell this was going to be a fun conversation. "You said my name aboard the Reaper," I said. "Have we met?"

The geth paused for a moment. "We know of you," it said at last.

"You mean I've fought a lot of geth," I guessed.

"We have never met."

"No, you and I haven't," I replied patiently, beginning to pace back and forth. "But I've met other geth."

"We are all geth and we have not met you."

Whatever.

The geth began to mimic my movements, pacing back and forth behind the kinetic barrier. "You are Shepard," it said. "Commander. Alliance. Human. Fought heretics. Killed by Collectors. Rediscovered on the Old Machine."

"'Old Machine,'" I repeated. "You mean the Reaper?"

"Reaper. A superstitious title originating with the Protheans. We call these entities the Old Machines."

Made sense, I guess. They _were _machines, after all, and they were countless millennia older than the first geth ever built. I couldn't help but notice that the metal around the geth's flashlight head/cable were actually a set of plates, each of which were capable of moving and articulating. Almost like humans and their eyebrows. But I was getting off-track. "You seem to know an awful lot about me."

"Extranet data sources," the geth supplied helpfully. "Insecure broadcasts. All organic data sent out is received. We watch you."

"You watch me or you watch organics?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes."

Oh for crying out loud. "_Which_?"

"Both."

"What do you mean by 'heretics'?" I asked, recalling one of the earlier—and longer—answers.

"Geth build our own future. The heretics asked the Old Machines to give them the future. They are no longer part of us. We were studying the Old Machine's hardware to protect our future."

Whoa. This was big. Unless I totally misunderstood things, it sounded like the geth actually had factions. At least two factions—one of which had aligned with the Reapers or 'Old Machines.' And those groups couldn't have been on good terms if this guy was off poking through a Reaper on the sly. "You mean the Reapers are a threat to you too?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We are different from them. Outside their plans."

So their conflicting agendas overrode any sense of loyalty they might have over their shared status as synthetics. Curiouser and curioser... "What future are the geth building?"

"Ours."

"Will anyone else be affected by whatever it is you're doing?" I pressed.

"If they involve themselves, they will."

"Just so we're all clear here," I said, taking a step forward. "You aren't allied with the Reapers?"

"We oppose the heretics," the geth replied, taking a step forward as well. "We oppose the Old Machines. Shepard-Commander opposes the heretics. Shepard-Commander opposes the Old Machines. Cooperation furthers mutual goals."

This was different. Usually _I'm_ the one running around asking _other _people to join me on some idiotic journey. But if the geth was saying what I thought it was saying... "Are you asking to join us?"

"Yes."

Huh. All this time I had been risking my ass to recruit organics when I could have just sat back and let synthetics volunteer their services instead. **(8)** Taking a chance, I reached for my omni-tool and shut down the barrier. I took the fact that the geth didn't immediately reach out and throttle me as a good sign. "Then what should I call you?"

There was a pause. "Geth."

"I mean you," I clarified, motioning towards it with my hand and noting how it mimicked my movements once again. "Specifically."

"We are all geth."

Oh for crying out loud. "What is the individual in front of me called?" I asked slowly.

"There is no individual. We are geth."

Huh?

The geth must have seen enough humans to interpret the blank look on my face, because it gave an additional clarification: "There are currently 1,183 programs active within this platform."

Whoa. Did that mean there were over a thousand... people or geth within the—what was it called? A platform?—in front of me? Like one small community sharing the same space? If so, maybe that was why it—they—insisted that they were all geth. All this time I'd been thinking of it as an individual, up to and including my attempts to assign it an individual designation. That didn't work because there _was_ no individual. So what _would _be an appropriate name? 1183? United Nations of Geth?

While I was busy pondering this, EDI activated her holographic avatar. "'My name is Legion, for we are many.'"

"That seems appropriate," I conceded. Much better than any of the choices I'd come up with.

The geth's face-plates moved, flickering and tilting briefly. "Christian Bible, the Gospel of Mark, Chapter Five, Verse Nine," it—they, whatever—identified. "We acknowledge this as an appropriate metaphor. We are Legion, a terminal of the geth. We will integrate into Normandy."

Sure. Whatever it—they—said. I extended a hand to formalize our arrangement. The geth—no, _Legion_—copied me. After a moment, I reached over and shook its/their hand.

"We anticipate the exchange of data," Legion told me.

Like I said: fun conversation.

* * *

><p>The guard was gone when I left the AI core. Maybe he figured that Legion didn't need guarding now that I had welcomed him to the squad. Or he really needed to make a pit stop. Whatever. One less person to inform that I'd just woken up a geth and given it free rein to roam the ship—though past experience had shown I was the only one who had the time to wander around. Dr. Chakwas took the whole thing in stride with a simple "Understood, Commander, and how are you today?" Evidently she had decided that I knew what I was doing. I didn't have the heart to disillusion her, so I just smiled and spouted some mindless platitudes.<p>

Miranda didn't react too strongly either, mostly because she already knew what I was going to do. The only surprise, as far as she was concerned, was the revelation of Legion's allegiances and its/their request.

"So this geth belongs to a faction who regards the Reapers as an enemy," she summarized, "and thus wants to join us as a squad member."

"Pretty much," I nodded.

"And you're all right with the idea of a geth running amok."

"Yep." I'll admit that was given mostly to see her reaction.

She muttered something that sounded like "Of course you would." Aloud, she simply said "As long as EDI keeps a close eye on the geth—"

"Legion," I interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"It—or they—have accepted the name 'Legion.' We might as well observe the proprieties."

Miranda sighed. "Fine. As long as EDI keeps a close eye on _Legion_, monitors the integrity of our firewalls and is prepared to lock the doors to the AI Core on a moment's notice, I suppose we can give it a trial run."

"Agreed," I said, acting as if I hadn't already decided that certain precautions were warranted. **(9)** "Now that that's dealt with, do you have a minute?"

I was expecting her usual response to my attempt at chit-chat, which basically could be summed up as "Not now. I'm busy. Maybe later." Needless to say, I was surprised when she nodded. "Of course. I'd been meaning to speak with you, in fact."

Miranda got up from her chair to the back half of the room, which had been converted into living quarters and sat down on one of the couches—the one facing the window, if you really must know. Following her cue, I sat down on the other end. She hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the words—no, it looked more like mustering her will or courage.

She took a deep breath before finally speaking: "I… wanted to apologize."

This day was just full of surprises.

"I didn't fully believe you'd be up to the task… and it seems I was wrong. Frankly, based on what I've seen, I wish Cerberus had tried to recruit you earlier."

"Apology accepted," I replied. "Look, Miranda, I might trust you. But I don't trust Cerberus. Your experiments cross the line."

"All the time, yes," Miranda admitted. "But I recall a Spectre who crossed a few lines while hunting down Saren and the geth."

Yeah, shamelessly looting safes, crates and credit accounts are considered crimes in most galactic societies.

"Only a few," I disagreed. "Not the ones that matter."

"See? Right there: the fact that you can recognize that distinction where it counts and stand by it instead of indulging in hypocritical behavior is why we'd be lucky to have you. Too many join us out of simple xenophobia. They fight without knowing what they're fighting for. We need more people here for the right reasons."

"Those 'right reasons' being the promoting, supporting and advancing humanity's interests," I asked. "With your intelligence, you could have done that anywhere. You could have landed any job you wanted to pursue those goals. Why choose Cerberus? Was it just to protect Oriana?"

"It started with safeguarding my sister," Miranda admitted. "I weighed all the options and Cerberus was the only organization that met my requirements. But… even Oriana was set up safely on Illium with her foster family, I stayed because I still envy the time Mordin spent with the Special Tasks Group."

"Sneaking around where they're not welcome and doing impolite things," I suggested.

"Working with people as smart as he was, with the manpower and material to do what had to be done," she corrected me. "Cerberus never tells me that something is impossible. They give me my resources and say 'Do it.'"

So Miranda felt that Cerberus gave her the environment she desired to challenge herself; to explore and expand her potential. I still thought that she'd picked a poor career path, but I guess I could see the appeal in that.

"And they've given you even more," she continued. "A new life, a new ship, the Illusive Man's personal attention…"

Gah. The less said about that last part the better. I quickly changed the topic. "That's nice and all, but the best thing he did was to add you to my crew. I couldn't have accomplished all this without your help."

Which was true. Without her, I'd have much less time to wander around and harass people. Plus, the talents that she brought to the squad during the seemingly inevitable combat situations had proved invaluable time and time again.

"You'd have done fine without me," she said with a note of… admiration? Envy? Sadness? "I may not have believed it before, but… I don't have what you do—that fire that makes someone willing to follow you into hell itself."

That wasn't fire. It was the ability to turn off other people's common sense and self-preservation. Before I could open my mouth and say that, however, she got up and walked to the window. "My father gave me the best genes money could buy," she said bitterly. "Guess that wasn't enough."

"You always bring up your genetic tailoring," I said carefully. "It really bothers you, doesn't it?"

The sadness in her voice answered my question before her words did. "This is what I am, Shepard. I can't hide it. The intelligence, the looks, even the biotics… he paid for all of that. Every one of your accomplishments is due to your skill. The only things I can take credit for are my mistakes."

Oh for crying out loud. "Don't you think you're giving your dad way too much credit?" I asked. "Following that logic, you could say people who haven't received a lot of genetic enhancements can only take credit for their successes and not their mistakes—and history has shown that there are a lot of bone-headed mistakes that have been made over the years. Look, your dad may have given you gifts, but you were the one who developed and honed them. You were the one who chose to use them. You were the one who decided _how_ to use them. Don't you think you can indulge in a little pride over what you've done with your talents? If nothing else, you directed the team that brought a man back from the dead."

"I suppose you're right…"

This wasn't going the way I'd hoped, though I wasn't sure why—isn't that what you were supposed to say in this situation? Maybe that was it. Most people _would_ say that you've been given so much and done so much and you're so smart and blah, blah, blah. I decided the last thing she needed was another schmuck singing her praises, so I tried something different. "Damn straight I'm right. If I can see it, surely you can… hey. Hey, that's it! It's not that you can't see it—you don't _want _to see it. You're _jealous_!"

Miranda turned around slowly, a mixture of confusion and anger on her face. "What? Don't be absurd!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," I smirked. "The genetic mutt that the Illusive Man put in charge? That's must sting."

Her eyes flashed angrily. I'd definitely broken through her pity. "First, it's not a competition," she snapped. "Second, based on your combat records, you're practically a perfect bloody human specimen!"

"'Perfect human specimen,' huh?" I grinned.

"Don't get cocky," she admonished, taking a step towards me. "I'm the one who put you back together, remember? And I do damn good work."

"You certainly do," I murmured, taking a step forward myself.

I'm still not sure who made the first move. All I remember is one moment, we're staring—or glaring—at each other. The next moment, the universe had faded away. Probably because I was finding out just how soft and warm and full her lips were. My entire body tingled with the promise of something right and happy and glorious. I dimly recall that my arms were around her waist, hands firmly planted on the small of her back, while her arms were wrapped around my neck. She felt deliciously soft and warm and silky—though that last part was probably the material of her outfit. Should've known she'd indulge in the best fabrics.

Then we were staring at each other again. This time, Miranda had a look of shock on her face. **(10) **

Oh God.

Did I just…

Oh God.

Did I just do what I thought I just did…

Oh God, oh God.

...with Miranda?

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...

"What the hell was that?" Miranda finally whispered.

My mind was paralyzed, but that didn't stop my smart mouth from saying: "Back in my day, before mechs were all the rage and everyone was toting these new-fangled thermal clips, we called that a 'kiss.'"

For the first time since we'd met—and, undoubtedly, the first time in years—Miranda panicked. "Oh God, this, um, okay, this doesn't mean anything. We just—God, I need to, er, think. Yeah. I need—work. Right, lots to do, you know, what with, um, stuff and… things. And think. Wait, I already said that. Oh God, I need… I'll talk to you later."

She hastily strode back to her desk. A grin started to spread over my face again.

"And stop smiling, damn it," she added, shooting me a glare before sitting down.

Hey, it wasn't my fault. She was the one who looked so cute when she was flustered.

Wait…

Oh God.

Did I…

Oh God.

Did I just call her…

Oh God, oh God.

…cute?

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...

* * *

><p><em>(1): Lack of intelligence, or the potential for faulty intelligence, is the fear of every soldier. <em>

_(2): Howard Phillips Lovecraft, an author of horror, fantasy and science fiction during the early twentieth century. He is particularly notable for his contribution to the subgenre of 'weird fiction' and the literary principle of cosmicism, which postulated that humans foolishly investigated the mysteries of the cosmos, not recognizing that they, and mankind, was susceptible to extinction at any moment by greater forces. These forces were vast, indifferent and incomprehensible, incapable of recognizing the small, visionless and ultimately insignificant nature of humanity. _

_(3): Indeed, this was extremely unusual, a clear deviation from the profile Alliance and Citadel personnel had compiled after countless after-action reports—most of which came from Commander Shepard._

_(4): An obscure slang phrase meaning "Let's get a move on" or some similar sentiment, originating somewhere in the early to mid-twentieth century._

_(5): While Shepard made sure that someone was covering his back, he failed to realize that he was voluntarily putting himself up front and in harm's way once again. _

_(6): Shepard's acronym for the Collector Particle Beam weapon he'd recovered from Horizon._

_(7): Readers are undoubtedly aware that Shepard pursued both with an almost inhuman fervour. Sadly, I am not surprised to learn which one won out. _

_(8): Inaccuracies about the minimal risk aside, it is worth noting that this log provided an unparalleled glimpse of geth society. Mostly because, up until this point, there had been no reliable information on geth society whatsoever. _

_(9): Given previous encounters between geth and humanity, it's reassuring to see that Shepard's willingness to accept help and trust all sorts of individuals is tempered with a certain degree of pragmatism. _

_(10): In hindsight, this development was not completely unexpected. In all honesty, I must confess to a certain surprise nonetheless._


	26. Personnel Report: Samara

_Editorial Note: In this personnel report, Shepard examines his relationship with Samara, the insights he gains into justicars and asari culture, and a heartbreakingly personal mission. _

**Personnel Report—Samara**

Some people have compared Spectres to justicars. I guess it's because both are regarded as symbols or examples for others to follow. Personally, I've never really bought that. From my admittedly limited experience, we're not so much a representation of ideals as we are the first and last line of defence. We don't really stand as an exemplar for any one race as much as we stand as a bastion against anything and everything that threatens galactic stability. If that means those lofty ideals get tossed out the window, so be it—so long as TPTB don't hear too many details. From what Samara was showing me, though, justicars were an entirely different breed. Unlike Spectres, justicars were bound by their Code, which laid out how they were expected to conduct themselves in exhausting detail. Very black and white, with little room for interpretation.

In some ways, that made her an invaluable member of the squad. Her biotic and combat skills were top-notch and she had seen more decades of combat than the rest of us combined. Heck, she'd _lived_ longer than the rest of us combined. Not to mention what a relief it was to have someone wouldn't go off on a rampage or vendetta at a moment's notice. Still, she wasn't the easiest person to know. Despite her politeness and unfailing courtesy, there was no denying the fact that she lived in her own bubble of right and wrong, which made it a bit difficult to connect with her. **(1) **

So I was a bit surprised when Kelly told me that Samara wanted to chat. I couldn't help but review all the missions we'd faced on the way to Starboard Observation, like a kid who's been hauled to the principal's office. Had I swiped one too many items? Had the Code deemed my handling of some random crook or merc too lax? Not that I broke out a sweat sifting through all those memories. I'm a man, after all, and we don't sweat. We glow.

As usual, Samara was meditating, drawing peace from the stars outside the window and the ball of biotic energy pulsing between her hands. "I am glad I joined your team," she said when I entered the room. "It has been too long since I traveled with companions."

Oh goodie. There was a chance I wouldn't get my brains smeared across the wall after all.

"When the time comes, I will do whatever is necessary."

"Good to know," I replied. "You're an important part of this crew, Samara."

"It is my honour," she returned. "However, there is a matter I need to discuss." The biotic sphere between her hands waned and flickered out, as did the biotic field coursing over her body. She stood up and walked towards the window, staring out into space. "When we met on Illium," she said at last, "I told you about a very dangerous person I was pursuing. Using the information you obtained, I have located her. She's been going by the name 'Morinth.' I would like to apprehend her before she disappears again."

Here we go again. Though I had to admit her request made sense—by the time my mission was complete, this Morinth could be long gone. Assuming that Samara survived to continue her hunt, of course. Not that I said that, of course. "Where is she?"

"Omega. A night club called Afterlife—which seems a perfect place for her to hunt."

Ah, yes. Afterlife. That happy place where you could lose your hearing, your liver and your life—not necessarily in that order. "You mentioned that you've been tracking this Morinth for a while," I recalled. "How important is this?"

"Killing her has been my focus for 400 years," Samara said. "It is the most important thing in my life and the reason I became a justicar."

So, pretty important. "Tell me about her," I prompted.

"She is an Ardat-Yakshi. It is a term from a dead asari dialect. It means 'demon of the night winds.'"

"Charming."

"But that is merely mythology," Samara continued. "She is simply a very dangerous woman who kills without mercy."

"So an Ardat-Yakshi is a special kind of murderer?" I asked.

Samara shook her head. "Morinth suffers from a rare genetic disorder. When she mates with you, there is no gentle melding of nervous systems. She overpowers your own, burns it out and hemorrhages your brain. You end up a mindless shell and, soon after, you are dead."

So not so much a serial killer as she was the asari version of a vampire or succubus. Sadly, I can think of several people who wouldn't mind going out that way. "I haven't exactly made a study of this, but it doesn't seem like they're mentioned much in asari literature or art."

"When we were primitive, there was much fascination with Ardat-Yakshi. Some cultures worshipped them as gods of destruction. Now the asari have a place in the galaxy. They don't wish this defect to be widely known."

Yeah, there were enough people of various races who thought the asari were so wise, so graceful, so perfect. I could see how they'd want to hide that little skeleton in the proverbial closet.

"As far as I know, only three exist today. Two chose a life of seclusion. The third ran."

"Morinth."

"Precisely. She ran and I am sworn to kill her."

"Couldn't you just apprehend her and take her back to join the other Ardat-Yakshi?" I suggested.

"It is too late for that," Samara replied, shaking her head. "When she fled, she proved her addiction. She was not taking a great moral stand—she simply wants to keep killing. She is a tragic figure, but not a sympathetic one."

"'She wants to keep killing,'" I repeated. "Does that have anything to do with her... unique way of melding?"

"It does," Samara nodded. "She confuses her victims, twists their feelings. They will do anything for her favour. Each encounter gives her strength. The effect is narcotic; the more she does it, the more she needs to do it. She will never stop. She can't."

"You mentioned this is a genetic condition," I said. "Can't it be detected _in utero_ and corrected?"

"Regrettably, no. We are an advanced species, but we don't have magic. When the trait manifests at maturity, it is too late for mitigation. When one is diagnosed, she is offered the chance to live in seclusion and comfort. If she refuses, it shows her addiction to the ecstasy she gets from killing her mates. There is no redemption for such a person."

"They have to choose between prison and death?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It is an addictive condition," Samara said calmly. "Remember how adaptive we are. If Morinth does not want to be cured, she won't be."

That seemed like a remarkably narrow-minded way of dealing with it. My way or the highway, without any middle ground whatsoever. The only reason I wasn't more sympathetic was probably the fact that my libido had been quiet throughout this entire conversation. Not that I would have listened to it, regrettably—can't hear it over my insatiable curiosity. No wonder I still haven't gotten any action. "I can see why you gave her such a high priority," I said neutrally.

"Thank you, Commander," she sighed. "There are no words to express what this means to me."

"I'll tell Joker to set course for Omega," I said, turning to leave.

I'd scarcely taken three steps before Samara spoke again. "There is one thing more."

There always is.

"This creature, this... monster. She is my daughter."

Hoo boy.

Something Samara had said earlier floated to the surface. "You said this is genetic," I frowned, walking back until I was in front of her. "How many children do you have?"

"Three. And three more Ardat-Yakshi are in existence today."

Oy.

"It is as it sounds. Morinth was always the wild one—she was happy and free... but selfish."

Awkward didn't begin to cover this latest development. Though that didn't stop me from trying to offer my condolences. "I can't imagine what this is like for you—"

"I don't want pity, Shepard," Samara interrupted, brushing my words aside. "I do not accept it. My daughter's condition is my fault. And my redemption lies in killing her."

Oookaaaay...

"Do not pity me. Simply understand my situation."

"All right," I agreed slowly. "But if you want me to understand your situation, you're going to have to provide a bit more information."

"I spent my youth on the move, one adventure after another," Samara began. "I killed people, mated with them, or just danced the night away. I learned so much, experienced so much. And then my matron days came. **(2)** I could finally sit back, bask, and enjoy my family. But in one moment, it was all taken away.

"I sat in a med lab while a nearsighted doctor droned at me. And I learned that nothing was as I thought it would be. I gave up all that I possessed. Now I own nothing, claim nothing. All my knowledge will die with me. Now my purpose is to destroy my own children. And I have hundreds of years left to pursue that purpose and live with the consequences—

"I say too much," she suddenly said. I wasn't sure if she interrupted her own self-reflection because she thought she was getting off track or because she was starting to think of those consequences. "Forgive me. Help me find my long-lost daughter. And kill her."

"We'll go find Morinth," I nodded.

What else could I say?

* * *

><p>Despite the health hazards involved with simply walking down Omega's many dark corridors; I didn't bring the entire squad with me. A full squad would attract way too much attention and alert Morinth to our intentions. Not to mention that there were some people who probably wouldn't be suited for this particular mission, given the parameters and the location.<p>

I decided that Garrus should probably stay behind just in case someone had managed to figure out that he was the infamous Archangel and wanted revenge for all the inconvenience he'd caused. Tracking down a quarry who wanted to remain hidden required a certain patience and subtlety... which, needless to say, Jack and Grunt lacked. Legion's mere presence would draw way too much attention. Period.

And Miranda... Yeah, that was tricky. After the unexpected conclusion to a certain conversation, neither of us knew what to do about that particular elephant in the room. So we silently and mutually agreed to pretend it never happened. That didn't seem to be going very well, much to my surprise. **(3)** I still dropped by to interrupt her day on a regular basis, in the name of returning to what passes as 'normal' in my life. Unfortunately, there was no denying the fact that there was a definite tension in the air, an unspoken panic over what had occurred between us and what the heck to do with it, which abruptly and dramatically lifted whenever we parted ways. Sooner or later, we'd have to deal with this. But for now, I had the luxury of putting it off for another day.

In the end, I hand-picked a small team to go with me. Samara had to come along, for reasons that should be perfectly obvious. I also chose Thane and Zaeed for their experiences in hunting down targets as an assassin and bounty hunter, respectively. This team would be ideal for tracking down Morinth and countering any biotic tricks she might throw at us.

And if Morinth had any backup—especially mercs with those pesky shields? In the short term, Zaeed and I could use our disruptor ammo mods to even things out. To further tip the scale in our favour, I had the rest of the squad placed on standby. Miranda would lead Jacob, Grunt and Legion; while Garrus would command everyone else. Hopefully, that would give each team a broad enough skill set to handle anything while maintaining as much unit cohesion as possible after all my tinkering.

Hopefully.

Before we docked, I had EDI begin a scan of Omega's various databases. The results came just as we passed through the airlock. _"The daily death count on Omega is too high for me to pinpoint an Ardat-Yakshi's location."_

Naturally.

_"However, given the reputation of Ardat-Yakshi among the asari, Aria T'Loak may have tracked her movements."_

Oh goodie. I was meaning to have a chat with her. I marched past the bouncers and entered Afterlife, noting for the first time how nice it was that I didn't have to line-up. Guess Aria figured I'd be less trouble if I didn't have to wait like all the other civvies.

Speaking of trouble, I decided to say hi to Patriarch and see how the first krogan I aided as a 'krantt' was doing. That, and I wanted his take on something. When I found him, he was busy giving advice to Captain Gavorn, the turian tasked with keeping the local vorcha population under control and out of sight. He seemed happier than before, probably because he was actually acting as a real advisor rather than wallowing in nostalgia. When they were done, I nodded a hello to Gavorn before turning to Patriarch.

"Seems like you're doing well for yourself," I said.

"Thanks to the human who served as my krantt," Patriarch smiled. "People listen to me now—and not just for old tales. Of course, that means that Aria has to keep a closer eye on me now, just in case I try anything." His smile became a bit cold. "Diverting her attention and manpower like that amuses me."

"I need to get some information from Aria. If you have a moment, maybe you can give me some advice." I quickly laid out the plan that I'd hastily pulled together on our trip to Omega.

"No harm in mentioning the... complications in obtaining the cache first, but see if you can get the information your comrade requires before handing over your gift," Patriarch recommended. "Perhaps that will prompt her to offer more aid. If not, you end things with her in your debt."

"I like the sound of that," I admitted.

Patriarch chuckled. "So do I."

With that matter settled, I led Samara, Thane and Zaeed straight to Afterlife, rather than killing time sightseeing, marched right up to Aria's private booth and plunked my ass down on the couch before she could give me permission. "Hi, Aria!" I positively chirped. "How ya doin'?"

She gave me a look that could be construed as humouring an overly energetic child or the escapee from the loony bin. Both of which might be true, depending on who you talked to. "Shepard. You look well."

"Yeah," I smiled cheerfully. "No thanks to you and your little favour. When you gave me the details on that smuggling depot on Daratar, you kinda glossed over the garrison."

I should probably explain that, shouldn't I?

The last time I was on Omega, recruiting Mordin and Garrus, I'd also helped Aria out by protecting the former ruler of Omega—the Patriarch—from a couple Blood Pack assassins. While my tactics weren't exactly what she had in mind, I did complete the assignment, so she passed me the coordinates to an Eclipse cache. She'd conveniently neglected to mention the three YMIR mechs that were guarding it. Granted, there was a remote possibility that she simply didn't know. It was more likely, however, that she saw the 'gift' as a win-win situation. Either I blew up the mechs and swiped what they were guarding, which would give Eclipse a bloody nose and further solidify her dominance, or they'd blow _me_ up, which would eliminate someone who had had a disproportionate impact on the power structure on Omega.

"As I recall, I said whatever you found was yours to deal with," Aria shrugged. "Clearly you did. So what brings you back to Omega?"

"An asari fugitive is hiding out here," I replied. "She's an Ardat-Yakshi."

A grimace rippled across her face. "I knew it. Nothing leaves a body quite as... empty... as an Ardat-Yakshi does."

"You haven't taken steps to kill her?" Samara interjected.

"Why would I?" Aria asked. "She hasn't tried to seduce me."

"You've obviously taken steps to keep apprised of any unusual deaths," I said. "Care to share?"

Aria considered me for a moment before nodding, obviously figuring that I could remove another potential problem before it flared out of control... or die trying. Again: win-win. "Her last victim was a young girl. Pretty thing. Lived in the tenements near here. That's where I'd start looking."

"Thanks for the help," I nodded.

"Good luck finding her," she smiled. "Better luck catching her."

I took a few steps as if to leave before spinning back. "Oh, almost forgot," I said casually. "How are all the merc groups doing?"

"You mean after you slaughtered several of them in your attempt to find the infamous Archangel?" Aria replied. "How did that go, anyway?"

I ignored the fact that she never answered my question. "Archangel's dead." Which was true, since he went back to his old name. Maybe Aria knew that. On the off chance that she didn't, I saw no point in giving her free intel.

"Not surprising," she smirked. "He did attract a lot of hostility."

"Which would otherwise have been directed at you," I nodded, pulling out a datapad. "Found this lying around the staging grounds where the mercs were going after Archangel. They were gunning for you next."

"Let me see," Aria frowned. I passed the datapad and watched her read the message:

_Tarak:_

_I've spoken to Garm, and he and his men are on board. Assuming this operation is successful, we can count on high morale and extensive buy-in from the men. From the losses we've already taken, possibility exists that we won't have the men needed to continue on to the next objective. It's clear, though that none of our organizations would be ready to move on Aria without the assistance of the other two._

_Jaroth _

"Interesting," she said mildly before throwing it at one of her stooges. "Would someone like to tell me how this information slipped the net?"

She never raised her voice or changed her tone, but everybody knew her calm veneer was nothing more than a facade. The poor batarian who'd apparently let this debacle occur on his watch gave an audible gulp. "I... I, uh, I'll look into it," he stammered before running away.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Shepard," Aria nodded. "Looks like I'll have to do a little cleaning in my organization."

"You're welcome," I replied. I could have left things like that, as Patriarch suggested. But I was curious about something that Aria had glossed over so far. In the end, my curiosity won out. "So... does that mean we're friendly enough to talk about who you were before Omega?" **(4)**

Aria raised an eyebrow. "You're reaching back centuries, Shepard. Long before anything that should matter to you."

Naturally, I ignored the hint. "So why keep it secret?" I asked.

"No reason, from your perspective," Aria said, getting to her feet. Guess sitting around all day looking bored gets tiring after a while. "But there are plenty of people out there with long memories. I've had a few careers, a few names. Commando training, mercenary contracts. I've kept what was valuable and dropped the baggage."

"And, what, you're worried that the people or baggage you left behind might pop up out of the past?"

"Maybe," Aria shrugged. "I might have nothing to fear on Omega, but that doesn't mean I want to broadcast my past to the galaxy. You'd be surprised how long some entities can hold a grudge. Remember that little exercise with Patriarch? Nothing more than a footnote in comparison. He's not the first krogan I've pissed off."

"You know, I would've thought you'd establish some alliances by now," I said. "Someone to back you up."

"I lean towards a particular type of work," Aria explained. "It tends to encourage professional rivalry. Sometimes you'd rather disappear than be forced to kill someone."

That last sentence almost sounded like regret, which must've been a rare admission for her. Interesting.

"No allies. At least, not reliable ones," I mused. "Then you couldn't have started out here with nothing. You must have been someone important."

"I've always been important, even if others didn't recognize it. So yes, I did have money to start this operation. I also had creditors who thought they were more entitled to it. I let them chase a ghost... or several. I had to: it's relatively easy to outlive a salarian. But not their record-keeping."

"'Records'?" I asked.

She gave me a look. Apparently, that wasn't something she was willing to divulge. Not to mention that she'd divulged more in the last few minutes than she probably had in the last several decades. "All right," I threw up my hands. "I'll drop it."

Satisfied that she'd put me in my place, she settled back down on her couch. "Better luck next time."

That triggered an old memory. Back on the old Normandy, in one of our few quiet moments, Wrex had told a story about one of his old contracts: to bump off a fellow asari merc and friend named Aleena. While a job was a job, they agreed to duel it out at a prearranged place and time due to their mutual respect for each other. Aleena managed to escape, leaving nothing behind but a simple message:

"Better luck next time."

Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe Aria had—intentionally or otherwise—let slip the most valuable nugget of intel I'd received so far. "Thanks for the chat," I said at last. "Maybe I'll come back later."

"Why don't you find a nice girl to keep you warm in the meantime?" Aria suggested. "You look like you need to loosen up a little."

...

Once again, I had nothing to say.

* * *

><p>Before going to track down the latest murder, I thought I'd check in on Kenn, the quarian who was trying to scrape together enough creds to buy a ticket off of Omega. "Good to see you," he nodded when he saw me. "Thanks again for dealing with Harrot. I'm actually saving up now for the day when I can kiss this hellhole goodbye."<p>

"No problem," I replied, skimming through his catalog. Nothing new, unfortunately. "Out of curiosity," I said idly, "how much do you need to get out of here?"

Kenn saw where I was going. "I still need 1000 credits to pay my way... but I couldn't let you do that. Getting stuck here was my mistake, on my Pilgrimage. It's my problem."

That's it? "I think you've struggled enough to satisfy this portion of the Pilgrimage," I decided, digging out the requisite number of creds. "Here you go. 1000 credits."

"What... I... Thank you. I'm going to buy my ticket right now."

He vaulted over the bench of his kiosk, took a couple steps, then backed up. "Thank you again!" he said gratefully, pumping my hand.

"A noble gesture," Samara complimented as Kenn departed.

"It's just a thousand credits," I replied before my brain caught up with my words. Since when was I so flush with cash that a thousand creds was a drop in the bucket? Guess my standards have changed after constantly swiping creds and buying high-end upgrades. Shaking my head, I led the team to the tenements of Omega. It took a few minutes, but I was eventually told to find a human woman named Diana by following the sounds of "her incessant bawling." Callousness aside, that description led us right to her. After a couple more minutes, she stopped crying long enough to notice us.

"Are you here about my daughter?" she asked dully. "My Nef died a week ago. No one seems to care. The medics said it was a brain hemorrhage, but that's not true. It was murder. Someone killed my Nef, my _baby_."

"I think she was murdered too," I told her, "and I'm looking for her killer."

"Oh, _thank you_," she sobbed in relief, getting off of the couch where she'd been sitting. "It's so hard when no one believes you. I'm all alone now." She paused for a moment, something penetrating her fog of grief. "Are you... are you one of Aria's people?"

I shook my head. "I'm here to help. Does it matter who sent me?"

"No one else on this hell-hole gives a damn that my Nef is dead. If you can do something about it, I'll help you however I can."

I wished Garrus was here. He'd know how to do this sort of thing. All I could do was be my usual nosy self and hope for the best. "What kind of a girl was your daughter?" I started.

"My Nef had a fire inside her," Diana replied, her voice raw with emotion. "She was shy, but she was creative and driven and... the best girl a mother could hope for."

"She was creative?" Samara repeated. "How so?"

"She was a sculptor," Diana said. "Several galleries were interested in her, said her work was 'fresh.'"

I made a note to keep that in mind—not the sculptor bit as much as the creativity. Somehow, that had snagged Samara's interest, which meant I should probably pay attention to it as well. "Did your daughter have a lot of friends?"

Diana shook her head. "Not a lot, no. She was shy. Spent most of her time off making her sculptures, not hanging out with friends." Then she paused. "Something did change in the last few weeks, though. She started talking about an asari. Morinth."

Bingo.

"I see," Samara said neutrally.

"I didn't like her," Diana said darkly. "She kept dragging Nef out to clubs... and I'm pretty sure she gave my daughter drugs."

"What kind of a person was this Morinth?" I asked.

"I never met her, but Nef talked about her like she was a queen. You'd swear there was no one else alive when she talked about Morinth."

"That sounds familiar," Samara murmured.

I looked over at her. "Is that typical for Morinth, Samara? Controlling victims through drugs?"

"She controls them through sheer will," Samara replied. "The drugs are just a lifestyle. She loves clubs: the music, the atmosphere and so forth. She's a hedonist."

Not surprisingly, Diana was paying close attention to our conversation. "So this Morinth did hurt my daughter? Is she the one that... that...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

"I will bring justice to the one that did this," Samara vowed.

"We swear to you: Nef will rest easy soon," I added. **(5)**

"I hope so. I hope so." Diana broke down in tears again. "Oh, my baby."

Samara shook her head in commiseration. I waited for a minute before continuing with my questions. "Did Nef hang out anywhere in particular?"

"She was always quiet, working here at home," Diana sniffed. "Then, a few weeks ago, she started going out all the time, to the VIP area of that club down the street."

"Afterlife," I said as much as asked.

Diana nodded. "I think you need a password or something to get in there. That's when she met Morinth and... the change was so _sudden_. She just seemed... tired and distracted when she wasn't around Morinth."

I took a deep breath before asking my next question: "Do you mind if we examine Nef's room? See if there's anything that might give us a lead?"

"I didn't want to disturb anything," Diana said, looking at a door off to the side. "Her clothes, her art, her sculptures. Everything is the way she left it," she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The way it will always be. My baby is gone. She's gone and nothing will fix that—"

My hand automatically reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Gently—the last thing I wanted was to crush her bones. **(6)** Diana's body shook in silence. "Thank you," she whispered at last. "I'm sorry. I just miss her so much."

"It's okay," I replied. "We've all suffered loss."

"I know what it means to lose a daughter," Samara said. "I will avenge her." Her voice was intense—and not just with the promise of vengeance.

"Thank you," Diana repeated. "Please, if it helps you find her killer, look through her things."

"We will be respectful," Samara reassured her.

We walked quietly to Nef's room, each of us deep in thought. At least, I was. There was no denying that my life sucked—and not just because I'd gotten spaced. But at least I'd never outlived my own kid. Shaking my head to get it back in gear, I entered the room and looked around. First thing I noticed was how cluttered it was. Lots of sculptures and statues were scattered around in various stages of completion. I looked at one that looked more or less finished.

"Nef made that." Turning around, I saw Diana peering in from the doorway. "A man from some gallery offered me four years' salary for it. But I'd never part with it. I couldn't. I..." She broke off and quickly turned away.

Thane coughed quietly. "There is not enough room for the four of us," he said. "I shall wait outside."

Nodding in agreement, I let him go and continued searching through the room—which, like I said, was pretty crammed. There was a notepad on the floor, next to her bed. I picked it up and thumbed it on. _"Nef,"_ a female voice said. _"I'm sending you this hologram by the elcor artist Forta. His work is _sublime_—but don't stare at it too long. Or you may go mad. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, love. Can't wait to hear what you think of Forta."_

Morinth, no doubt. I knew she was sex and death on legs, but her voice was so _rich_, bursting with passion and vivacity. No wonder she could lure people like Nef in so easily.

"Shepard," Zaeed said, calling me over. He was kneeling by the bed, next to a laptop that was partially covered by the sheets. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that Zaeed had pulled up a couple log entries from a holo-journal program. "Read the oldest entry," I called out, following a hunch.

Sure enough, the laptop was equipped with voice-command software. A young girl's face—obviously, Nef—popped up on the screen. _"Hey, diary,"_ she said. _"Cycle 34, orbit 671. There's a lot to talk about!"_ She brushed a few bangs out of her eyes before continuing. _"I dropped Jaruut's name and they let me into the VIP room at Afterlife. I was sure everyone was staring at me. Then, the most beautiful asari starts... dancing near me. She moves like water; form and volume, but shifting, changing. I was in a trance. Then I'm _dancing_ with her. Later, we went for skewers. I'm supposed to see her again tomorrow."_

Jaruut. Got it. "Read the middle entry."

Nef popped up again, an uncertain look on her face. _"Cycle 36, orbit 671. Am I a freak? Morinth is a girl like me, and she's definitely not human. Just... when we dance, and the Hallex is flowing through me... the way she looks at me. With a hunger, a longing. No one's ever _looked_ at me like that. We kissed tonight."_

"Read the newest entry."

_"Cycle 42, orbit 67."_ Nef was fidgety, constantly shifting back and forth, her eyes darting everywhere but the laptop's vidcam. Her voice was harder—no, not harder. Just more certain, more firm. _"She's going to take me to her _apartment _tonight. Whatever happens, I want to be with her _forever_._ _She can sell my pieces. We can live somewhere glamorous. Like the women in Vaenia, that vid Morinth likes. How did this happen to me? I'm just dumb trash from Omega."_

"Close the holo-journal." As the program obligingly shut down, Zaeed got to his feet. The two of us looked at Samara. "This is Morinth's work," she confirmed. "She is attracted to artists and creators. Someone with a spark, slightly isolated from their peers. She impresses with sophistication and sex appeal, speaking to her victims on many levels. Her body tells yours that she'll bring unimaginable ecstasy. Her scent evokes emotions long hidden. Her eyes promise you things you were always scared to ask of another. Her voice whispers to you after she is done speaking."

I tried not to drool.

"Then she strikes. The hunt interests her as much as the conquest."

My salivary glands abruptly dried up. "And she's been doing this for 400 years," I sighed as reality came crashing down once more. "Anyone who's successfully hunted sapient beings for that long warrants caution." I paused before adding "She sounds more like a highly evolved serial killer than a genetic defective."

"The condition has been present since my people huddled around fires at night," Samara admitted. "Perhaps it is symbiotic, rather than a defect."

"Chattin' about campfires ain't gonna catch this bitch," Zaeed spat. "We need a plan."

"Storming her den would be a mistake," Samara said. "She will have a hundred escape routes planned. Once she has eluded us, she will go to ground and disappear for fifty years or more. I cannot allow that to happen: this is the closest I've _ever _been."

"If we can't go to her, then she'll have to come to us." The back of my neck started tingling. I paused to try and figure out what my instincts were trying to tell me, gave up and continued. "We have to lure her out."

"Exactly," Samara beamed. "Shepard, you read my mind."

I did?

"Afterlife's VIP section seems to be her preferred hunting ground. You must go there alone and unarmed."

Aw, crap.

"You want me to waltz into this place with no gun and no backup?" I sputtered.

Samara shook her head. "I will be in the shadows watching, Shepard. You will never be alone—this I swear. But you cannot barge in with guns and allies. Morinth is far too cagey—she'd simply disappear. This is a subtle, delicate act. Trust me."

Right. 'Cause someone who calmly beats the crap out of mercs and casually threatens certain doom to anyone who gets in your way knows all about 'subtle' and 'delicate.' "What makes you think Morinth will come after me?"

"You can draw Morinth out. She'll certainly flee if she catches sight of me. But she won't be able to resist you."

I dunno. Women have been awfully good at resisting me in the past. Unless they're bimbos. Morinth didn't sound like a bimbo. **(7)**

"You are an artist on the battlefield. You have the vital spark that attracts her. Your charisma will draw her in."

That seemed a bit of a stretch. That was why I wracked my brain thinking of a Plan B, not because it meant walking into a deathtrap. Unfortunately, I came up with absolutely nothing. "All right," I sighed, giving up at last. "Let's get over there."

We left the room, picked up Thane—who had been distracting Diana with a discussion about the finer points of drell art—and headed off to catch a killer.

Boy, do I know how to have fun or what?

* * *

><p>As I recalled, there were two entrances to Afterlife. There was the front entrance near the docks, where most people lined up. A back entrance—or exit, judging by all the passed-out or zoned-out civvies who were dumped outside—on the lower levels. This VIP entrance, which turned out to be next to the markets, made three.<p>

If I was going to play the role of bait—which was rapidly approaching my usual role of 'hero'—and Samara was going to cover my six, then that left Thane and Zaeed to cover three entrances. We were one short. So I went back to the Normandy and asked Kasumi to join us.

I could have told her this over the comm, but I was already heading back to the Normandy to change, so I might as well give her the order in person. If I was going in incognito, I needed to wear something other than a suit of armour. Since my closet didn't have a ton of clothes, it didn't take long for me to find a suitable outfit. Black sleeveless shirt, made of leather. Nut-brown vest, also made of leather. Dark brown leather pants. And some armbands—one of which conveniently hid my omni-tool so I wouldn't actually be completely defenceless after all—made of, you guessed it, leather.

Somebody in the Cerberus Wardrobe Department clearly had a fetish.

Anyway, after I got everybody up to speed and assigned them entrances to watch, I walked to the VIP entrance. I put a little swagger in my step, like I was some idiotic civvie who thought he was the toughest thug in the galaxy. The bouncer, a gruff looking turian, wasn't impressed. "What do you want?" he sneered.

"Lookin' for a good time," I returned. "What's back there?"

"VIP section of the club," he said shortly. "For those with the right name. I'll ask you again, human: what do you want?"

"Someone told me the rest of Afterlife is nothing compared to this place," I replied.

"Sounds like a smart person. Who was it?"

"Someone with the right name."

The bouncer glared at me. "Spit it out, human."

"Jaruut."

The bouncer nodded when I gave the password. "Go on in." He leaned towards me just before I passed him. "Word to the wise: start a fight, we'll hurt you. Someone attacks you; it's okay to defend yourself."

"Thanks for the tip," I nodded. I entered the door and found myself in what looked like a storage space. Lots of boxes and crates, which I searched through. Unfortunately, I didn't really have a need for glasses, booze or mystery meat. I was just about to give up and enter the VIP section when I saw Samara motion to me from behind a stack of boxes. After looking around to make sure we were alone, I headed over to meet her.

"Morinth will be watching you when you go in," she told me. "Like any predator, she is cautious. You must pique her interest enough that she will approach you. When you are face-to-face, subtly encourage her to invite you to her apartment. I'll follow discreetly and, when you are alone, I'll spring the trap.

"Know this: until I get there, you are in great peril," she warned. "She will be planning to inflict horrors on you. If you are not careful, you will want her to."

"Then you better make sure you arrive in time," I told her.

"I will be near and I will come for you, Shepard," Samara promised. "Trust me as I trust and honour you."

I hoped so. This would be the first time in a while that I was waiting for someone to come to my rescue, and not in a luring mercs out to get shot kind of way. "How can I spark her interest when there are so many other people inside there?" I asked.

"She'll want you the moment she sees you. The trick is keeping her attention focused on you. Courage or suicidal bravery could attract her. Hurt someone in defence and she will be excited; but pick a fight, and she'll be bored. Show skill at working smoothly through a nightclub crowd—she will be intrigued. Once you accomplish that, the rest is just a matter of overpowering her caution."

"Okay," I said. "That'll get her attention. How do I convince her to take me home?"

"She admires strength, directness and vigour," Samara advised. "Modesty, chivalry or meekness frustrate and bore her. Violence excites her. You've killed, Shepard—she'll sense and like that."

I was suddenly reminded of Joker's comment when I first recruited Samara. Something about how even the asari I signed up were trained killers. So were the asari I went after, it seemed.

"Right," I said instead. "Plus, we know a few topics of conversation that will interest her, thanks to Nef's journal. Let's see now: Morinth likes dancing while on a drug called Hallex."

"Nef's journal also mentioned a vid called Vaenia," Samara added. "It seemed to have something to do with glamorous women."

"And she likes an elcor artist by the name of Forta," I finished. "That seems to be it. Time to get started."

"Shepard," Samara warned, "we only get one chance at this. Any mistake and Morinth will disappear. If you're the least bit unsure, come talk to me. I will wait here."

"Got it."

"And Shepard?"

I turned back towards her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," Samara said. "I do not share this burden easily and you are the only soul I can imagine sharing it with."

That would be the second time I couldn't find anything to say. Was I on a roll or what?

* * *

><p>"Hey, man, do you know where to get tickets for Expel 10?"<p>

I had just entered the VIP section when some guy accosted me. He was dressed all in black leather like some kind of tough guy. I might have thought he was copying my style, were it not for the goofy grin on his face and the distracted, almost haunted look in his eyes. "This amazing asari says they're her favourite band. I want... I just want whatever she wants, you know? I gotta find tickets! Expel 10 is playing tomorrow!"

Asari. Music. Some schmuck wanting whatever she wants. Bingo. "What kind of music do they play?"

"They're a sensory band. Like, they crawl into you and make you _feel _things. And this asari digs them like you wouldn't believe. I could score way out of my league, you know? You gotta help me."

"I'd like to, but I don't have any tickets," I shrugged, injecting a note of faux-apology into my voice.

"If you score some, I got some creds for you," he offered eagerly.

"Deal," I lied. "See ya later." I walked a couple steps further into the VIP section and looked around. Central area where various people were dancing—or trying to dance, anyway. Couple lounging areas on the edges, all dimly lit. Bar over on the left. Loud music pumping away. Looked pretty similar to the rest of Afterlife.

"Um, excuse me?"

I turned to see a nervous looking human. "Hi," he said. "I, uh, I need help right now and I don't know who to ask. You're human and you don't look high, so you're it. Can you help me out?"

But... the mission... and trying to attract a crazy asari succubus vampire... and... you know what? Helping this guy out sounded like a _great _idea. "Sure," I nodded. "Just slow down and tell me what the problem is."

"Right. Slow down. Sorry, I just don't know what to do. My friend Moirall is doing a piece on Omega gangs. She's hanging with Florit—he's the worst of the worst."

Somehow, I highly doubted that, but I have a horribly unlucky perspective on the matter. "So she's a reporter?"

"Yeah, an investigative reporter. She's trying to do a vid piece profiling gang leaders." He pointed to a table occupied by a woman and a man. "But, the one she's interviewing? Florit? He's onto her. His gang is on the way here and they're going to make a mess of her! I have to get a message to her. Fast!"

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I'm her tech," he replied. "I've been monitoring the gang's comm channels. The last transmission said Florit's going to _splatter _her. But when I tried to warn her, I got nothing. Everything's fine on my end, so maybe her comm is dead or something. I dunno, man. I'm just a tech junkie. I don't know how to handle this."

"It's okay," I soothed. "What do you want me to do?"

"We have a code," he replied. "If you go over and say two words, my friend will get the message and get out of there. The words are 'terminal' and 'eternity.' In that order. Please tell me you can do that. She's gonna die if you don't help her."

"Sure," I nodded. "No problem."

His shoulders sagged in relief. "Thanks. Remember, 'terminal' and 'eternity.' In that order. Just work them into a sentence or something."

I meandered over to the table, weaving around a seriously drunk woman and stopped in front of Florit. He glanced up at me with an annoyed look. "You need something, man?"

"Yeah, is there a public extranet terminal around here?" I asked.

"In a club?" he scoffed. "You don't have an omni-tool?"

Moirall looked at me cautiously. "That _is _a pretty strange question."

"I have one, not that it's been doing me much good," I grumbled. "Damn thing's been broken for an eternity. Stupid piece of crap."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of recognition and panic in Moirall's eyes. Florit didn't notice, too occupied with me and my idiotic request. "That's a tough break, pal," he said with mock sympathy. "Now beat it. I'm done talkin' to you."

"Fine," I replied. "Yeesh. Thanks for nothing."

As I turned away, I heard Moirall make her excuses and leave. Job done.

I walked onto the dance floor and briefly considered joining the patrons before squashing the idea. Hadn't danced since high school, after all, and that was just a week of square dancing. Why the teachers thought we'd want to learn how to do _that _was beyond me. Still is, come to think of it. I was about to leave when I heard someone squeal "Leave me alone!"

"Come on, baby. I can pay." Following the conversation, I turned to see a turian leering at an asari dancer. "I'm a good tipper, too."

"I told you to stay away from me."

"Playing hard to get?" the turian laughed. "Give it up, baby. I'm sold."

"I said _beat it_!"

"Don't be like that. I just want you to go back to my place. Don't worry—I got simple tastes."

The turian tried to cop a feel, only to get shoved back for his trouble. "Back off, asshole," the asari snapped. "I'm a dancer, not a hooker."

"You got a mouth on you," the turian laughed. "I'll enjoy watching you use it." He reached over to grab her again. This time, I was the one slapping his arm away. "The lady asked you to leave," I said.

"What the hell?" he blurted out. "I'm just looking for a good time. This isn't your business."

No, it wasn't. I suddenly had a horrible idea how this was going to turn out. And I suddenly remembered how much I sucked at close-quarters combat. But no one else was doing anything and I'd already signed up for a pounding. "Maybe I'm making it my business," I offered, giving a smile I wasn't exactly feeling.

The turian stormed at me, talons clenching into fists. I let him throw the first punch, swivelling so it glanced off my shoulder—a move that let me channel some extra power into an uppercut. He tried to punch me again, but I stepped towards him, intercepting the hit before it could do any real damage. I kneed him in the gut, grabbed his arm, swivelled and pulled. The turian obligingly flew over my shoulder, through the air and into one of the pillars.

"Good times are over," I said firmly. The turian just groaned.

"Thanks for that." She smiled at me before glaring at a pair of batarians who were running towards us. "Security was asleep."

Satisfied that the batarians would handle things from here, and pleased that my usual sub-par fighting skills were more than capable of dealing with an aggressive drunk, I left to wander mindlessly through the room. Eventually, I found myself at the bar. "Whisky," I ordered, dropping a couple credits.

"Comin' right up," the bartender replied.

One of the patrons there, a krogan, sneered at me. "I guess they'll let anybody in here now. No standards anymore."

"If that's how you feel, how 'bout we discuss that outside?" I challenged. "Right here. Right now.

"I know what you're thinking," I added before he could respond. "It's just a human, right? Well this human's gone up against scum from just about every goddamn race imaginable. Batarians? Killed them. Turians? Killed them. Krogan? Killed them. So you gotta ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?" **(8) **

He got up to his feet, lumbered over and glared at me. I glared back. My eyes started to dry out.

Thankfully, the krogan blinked first. "I'm just trying to have a drink here," he complained defensively. "No need to get all excited. Damn humans."

The krogan stomped off. I'm sure that was what I was hearing. Or the loud music. Because it surely couldn't have been my knees shaking. Or my heart—

"Hi there."

Gah! Trying to calm my heartbeat down, I turned around and...

...

Huh.

I could've sworn I was staring at Samara. Sure looked like her. Only Samara wasn't wearing a tight neck-to-toe black leather catsuit. And she normally didn't look at me like she wanted to devour me. "My name is Morinth," she introduced herself. "And you are..."

"Drinking whisky," I replied, taking a sip from the drink I ordered.

"A man of mystery," she smiled. "And taste. I like that."

"Glad to hear it."

"I've been watching you. You're the most interesting person in this place. I've got a booth over there in the shadows. Why don't you come sit with me?"

"Why not?" I shrugged. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>"Some nights I come here and there's no one interesting to talk to," Morinth said as we sat down. "Some nights there's just one person. Tonight, it's you. Why is that?"<p>

"Maybe you and I want the same things," I replied.

"Do we?"

"Let's find out," I grinned, leaning in. "I've traveled all over the galaxy. How about you?"

"Is that a twist on the human phrase 'What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" Morinth teased.

"Now who's being mysterious?" I replied.

"I have done my share of travelling," she said, answering my question. "It changes you, doesn't it?"

"Not if you play it safe and stick to the tourist traps," I snorted. "Real travel means going to dangerous places."

"Where you can see and do things most people can't imagine," Morinth added.

"Exactly," I nodded.

"When I travel, I find myself drawn to dark places. Full of shadows and danger—"

"And violence?" I interrupted.

"Violence is the surest expression of power," she asserted.

"I've always thought violence was a means to an end," I shrugged. "Power is that end."

"Maybe," Morinth conceded. "But violence is such a charming way to reach that end."

"And fun," I grinned. "Speaking of fun, what do you think of the music here?"

"Dark rhythms, violent pulses. It stirs something primitive and primal in me. What about you?"

"It used to," I agreed, "but lately I've been wanting more. I'm curious about that sensory band? You know, Expel 10?"

She recognized the name, thanks to that lovestruck civvie I'd encountered earlier. "They get in my head and tear it to pieces. They're in concert soon; maybe we should go together."

"Why not?" I nodded. "They've got a lot of talent."

"You can really lose yourself in the music. There are ways to enhance that."

"Like Hallex?" I suggested.

I swear she shivered in pleasure. Or arousal. "It slithers through my soul." She leaned towards me, mouth slightly open. "Seems like we share some interests."

"Seems like." I took another sip before continuing. "You know anything about art."

Morinth nodded emphatically. "It resonates with my very core. It speaks to the darkest places in me. What about you?"

"Never used to pay much attention to it," I replied. "Then I ran into some work by an artist named Forta. You ever heard of him?"

Her smile widened in delight. "I didn't think anyone around here knew him. He's sublime. But you know, art comes in many varieties. I've seen vids that were more powerful than a sculpture sitting in a gallery."

"Have to agree with you there," I nodded. "Even a thirty-second trailer can really hit home. Like the ones for Vaenia."

"My favourite," she exclaimed. "The two actresses on it are so glamorous."

"I'll have to take your word for it. Never got around to watching the actual movie myself," I admitted.

"Maybe we could do that together," she suggested. "At my apartment. It's not far from here... and I want you alone."

It's amazing how you can manipulate your target if you have proper intel. Of course, I wasn't about to say that. "So do I," I said instead. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>Morinth's place didn't scream serial killer or crazed whackjob or anything. Standard open-concept place with various knick-knacks scattered around. I did the whole looking aroundself-guided tour bit while Morinth watched me from the couch. She occasionally mentioned a tidbit or factoid whenever I lingered at some doodad or other. After the third or fourth time, I started to detect a trend. Some people collected or displayed things as a hobby. Others because they wanted to personalize the space with things that represented their interests. Everything I saw here definitely fell into the latter category, as each and every object, in their own unique way, had something to do with power, dominance and death.

The sword hung over the assault rifle—which I scanned for a future upgrade—was a relic from her duelling days, reminding her of the joy she felt when she looked into her opponent's eyes and saw the dawning realization that she was better, they had lost and they were about to die.

The statue of a krogan? A gift from an unimpressive suitor—and victim.

The chess set? Just another game that ultimately divided players into winners and losers. Of course, for Morinth, losing also meant understanding that they were royally screwed, just before they kicked the bucket.

At last, I walked back to join Morinth. "I love clubs," she told me as I sat down. "People, movement, heat. I can still hear the bass, like the drums of a great hunt, out for your blood. But here, it's muted—and you're safe. Is that what you want?"

Sure, but the universe has never been interested in what I want. "Safety's a joke," I said instead. "People always feel safest right before they die."

"It's true," she nodded. "We're never safe. I've never understood the fascination with safety. Some of us choose differently." She shuffled over to sit next to me as she continued. "Independence over submission. I think we share that, you and I."

"We've both killed many times, but that's where the similarities end."

Morinth frowned. "Why do you say that I've killed?"

Oops.

"What do you know?" she demanded. "Let's stop playing games." She leaned towards me, staring into my eyes as if she was trying to peer into my soul. Looking back, I saw darkness sweep across her eyes until they were as black as the void between the stars.

Aw, crap.

"Look into my eyes and tell me you want me," she commanded. "Tell me you'd kill for me. Anything I want."

A cool, numbing sensation swept over me, silencing the tingling that had spiked at the back of my neck, seeping through my skin. Cold tendrils slithered through my body and my mind. My hands, which had instinctively clenched up into fists, slackened and relaxed. All the lights gradually dimmed and faded away into darkness, like Morinth's eyes. The percussive beats of the music grew softer and softer, until all I could hear was my heartbeat—and even that seemed to slow down.

Somehow, this seemed unsettling, discomforting, wrong. I couldn't figure out why, though. Not here. Not in this emptiness, this nothingness, where the only thing that mattered was Morinth. The only thing that existed was Morinth. And yet, something kept nagging at me. Some reason why this wasn't right. Someone who—

_Miranda! _

I took a sharp, deep breath. The numbness rushed away, replaced by a sudden awareness of my heartbeat, the blood pumping through my veins and, well, everything. Lights and sounds suddenly came crashing back in, inundating my senses. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and gave Morinth a cold smile. "I don't think so." **(9) **

She jerked with shock, the darkness fading from her eyes to reveal the surprise in her irises. "But you... who are you? Oh, no—I see what's going on," she realized. "The bitch herself found a little helper."

How did she—oh, right. Weird sensation in my noggin. Morinth must've established enough of a meld to pick up one or two things.

As if on cue, Samara marched through the doors, biotic energy crackling and dancing over her body. "Morinth," she said, raising a hand. A biotic wave rippled from her palm, shoving furniture aside as it swept across the room and hit her daughter, crushing her against the window with enough force to create spider cracks in the pane.

"Mother," Morinth replied coldly.

"Do not call me that," Samara snapped, slamming her against the window with another blast of biotics.

Morinth gave her a bitter smile. "I can't choose to stop being your daughter, _Mother_," she taunted.

"You made your choice long ago."

Morinth's eyes flared before she tucked her body into a fetal position, gathering biotic energy into a tight blue ball. Then she tensed her body and whipped her arms and legs out, releasing all that energy in an expanding wave of force that negated Samara's attack. "_What choice?_" she yelled furiously. With a mere gesture, she levitated Samara and a chair up into the air. "My only crime was being born with the gifts _you_ gave me." She sent the chair flying towards Samara, who countered with some sort of move that simultaneously deflected the chair and cancelled the levitation field, dropping her down on her butt.

"Enough, Morinth!" Samara cried, knocking her to the ground with the biotic equivalent of a punch. She stumbled to her feet, followed shortly by her daughter. The two of them thrust their arms outward, sending biotic energy coursing towards each other. The energies coalesced into a blue singularity, rotating and growing in size and power.

"I am the genetic destiny of the asari," Morinth snarled, as the furniture slowly lifted off the ground and began to spin around the two duelling asari. "But they are not ready to reveal this, so I must die."

"You are a disease to be purged," Samara countered, "nothing more."

"Look, pal," Morinth abruptly said, tilting her head towards me. "I'm as strong as she is, maybe more so—let me join you!"

"I am already sworn to help you, Shepard," Samara reminded me. "Let us finish this."

Help an asari justicar who viewed every problem as a nail to be smashed with a biotic hammer? Or aid a crazed asari seductress and serial killer who had tried to brainwash me once already? Hard choice. I reached out, grabbed Morinth's arm and yanked it away. As I'd hoped, my move disrupted her concentration. "End of the line, Morinth," I told her.

"You would sentence me to death?" Morinth spat at me. "And they call me a monster!"

Before I could reply, Samara sent another biotic wave into Morinth, knocking her onto her ass. I dodged out of the way as chairs fell back to the floor. Samara walked over to her daughter, slowly and inexorably advancing on her quarry as Morinth frantically backpedalled away. It was only a matter of seconds before Samara had cornered her. She crouched over her daughter, gripping her by the neck. They stared at each other.

"Find peace in the embrace of the goddess," Samara said, generating a blaze of biotic energy in the palm of her free hand.

Then she struck home. _Hard_. I winced, turning my head away slightly. I turned back, looked at what was left of Morinth, and regretted my decision. Instead, I looked at Samara, who was staring down at her handiwork. Her quarry.

Her daughter. "Samara?" I asked tentatively.

"It's done," she said softly. "I feel... how can I explain how I feel? I just killed the bravest and smartest of my daughters. There are no words for what I have done. Perhaps I will try another time." She glanced at me, a pleading look in her eye. "For now, show mercy on a broken old warrior and let us leave."

I nodded silently and gestured for us to go, leaving her daughter and 400 years of suffering behind.

* * *

><p>I skipped Samara during the next couple rounds, so I didn't see her again until the following day. "Morinth haunted my dreams and waking hours equally," she told me when I finally arrived. "For the first time in 400 years, I am free. I am a ruined vessel of sorrow and regret, but I am free. It is not a feeling I can describe."<p>

"You said Morinth was 'the bravest and smartest' of your daughters," I recalled.

"She was," Samara nodded. "She would not accept the injustice thrust upon her. She fought to the very end. I am so proud of her."

"And yet you killed her for being what she was. _Who _she was."

"I did," Samara conceded. "And I would again. But I also know what it means to leave everything behind and fight. Do you realize that she went on the run at the age of 40?" she asked, suddenly changing the topic. "I do not know human years well, but it is very young for asari."

Yeah, a human of a comparative age would still have trouble reaching the door panel, much less run away. "Was it worth all that sorrow and regret?" I asked.

"It was never a question of worth, but of need," Samara replied. "I had to take the action I did. As did she. This was never a tale that would have a happy outcome."

"I don't question that you did your duty," I said, "but what about your feelings?"

"One of my daughters is dead. My hopes, my dreams were all bound up in my children. Still, my duty has always come before my feelings. The same is true of you."

I would have agreed with her up until a week ago. Now... I dunno. "What will you do now that Morinth is gone?" I asked instead.

"Assuming I survive your mission?"

Yeah. That.

"I am a justicar. Injustice still exists... and perhaps even other Ardat-Yakshi."

"Do you mind if I ask what are the chances of finding other Ardat-Yakshi?"

"It is hard to say," Samara shrugged. "The condition is rare, only occurring in purebloods like myself. Perhaps that is the root of the stigma regarding asari-exclusive pairings. I do not know. As for finding them, asari have spread to many worlds. There are remote regions with no government oversight or knowledge of Ardat-Yakshi. If I travel to those worlds and they do exist, I will find them. And if they have not entered a monastery like my other children, I will kill them."

"You still want to hunt and kill, after all this time? You don't want to settle down?"

Samara offered a sad smile. "I did. I returned to my homeworld and tried to start a family. I will fight and struggle all my life. When I die, it will not be in bed. That is my fate. I am at peace with that."

This was getting rather depressing for me, which meant I couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like for her. So I did what I always did in these situations—change the topic. "You must have seen many things in your years of travel."

"As a maiden, I served as a mercenary. I fought tyrants and pirates. I experienced everything the galaxy has to offer. As a justicar, I saw parts of asari space few know above. I destroyed villages and saved cities. I even fought a Spectre."

Really? "Why did you fight a Spectre?"

"He was a turian named Nihlus. He may have been on Council business, but I witnessed him kill an unarmed civilian. Following the Code, I attacked."

"When we met, I witnessed you kill a merc who had no chance against you," I reminded her. "How is that any different?"

"That mercenary was armed," she rebutted. "And I offered her a way out. She chose to ignore it."

"You know, I met Nihlus shortly before I became a Spectre," I said. "He seemed like an honourable turian. And a good Spectre. I'm surprised that he would do something like that." **(10)**

"He may have been honourable and good. I do not know. However, killing unarmed civilians is wrong."

"How did the fight turn out?" I asked curiously.

"I had the advantage, but he was good," Samara replied. "He returned fire and tried to run. We played cat and mouse in the wilderness for two weeks. It was exhilarating."

That's one word for it.

"Finally, he created a situation in which my only options were to let an innocent die, or pursue him. The Code compelled me to save the innocent and he escaped. I admire how he adapted and used my Code against me."

"Have all your years as a justicar been that eventful?"

Samara shook her head. "It has been mostly tedium and hardship. Traveling on freighters, wandering through rural areas. Rooting out injustices, big and small. Putting down corrupt officials—when I arrive in a remote area, individuals often approach me with matters of justice. My judgement rarely turns out the way they hope."

Heh. Yeah, it's funny how manipulation and trickery can turn back to bite you on the ass. "How do you pay for transportation between worlds?" I asked curiously. If I hadn't had the Normandy, I'd have never been able to stop Saren two years ago, not to mention being light years behind the Collectors here and now.

"Asari captains often welcome justicars. We reduce pirate attacks. One raid was called off when the pirates were able to verify that I was aboard."

Yeah, after everything I'd seen, I could imagine a reaction like that.

"You mentioned that you had to destroy a village in your time as a justicar? Why?"

"I tracked Morinth to a remote colony world. She'd perverted an entire town, making them worship her and bring young asari as sacrifices. When I arrived, she fled, throwing her minions at me in waves. They bought her time with their lives. When it was done, only small children remained. I left them in the authorities' care and continued my pursuit."

Just another reason why I was glad I didn't pick Morinth instead. My job is to blithely walk into deathtraps, not help a cult spread throughout the galaxy. It was good to see that Samara was able to talk about her daughter without breaking down. At least, I hoped it was good—I'd like to think that she was coming to terms with bringing this whole tragic quest to an end, rather than suppressing it until it exploded at the worst possible time.

"What was being a mercenary like?" I asked impulsively, suddenly aware that neither of us had been talking for a good... well, a good minute.

"I was a young, impulsive maiden who discovered her talent for combat. I revelled in it... until the day my troop was hired to guard a mysterious shipment on its way to some clandestine drop-off area. I discovered the shipment was slaves, to be traded to the Collectors for advanced technology."

"So this isn't your first time going up against them," I realized.

"It is not."

"What did you do when you found out about the slaves?"

"I demanded that we turn around. My mates disagreed. After they were dead, I brought the ship around."

Of course. There was a disagreement. Samara won, the others died. Moving on.

"The Collector craft was just arriving, but they closed faster than I could flee. Fortunately, we were close to the mass relay. I got through and they did not pursue."

"What did you do with all the slaves?"

"I lectured them on the virtues of strength and defending oneself."

Oh yeah. 'Cuz that's the first thing you need after being freed from a lifetime of servitude and slavery.

"Then I distributed the armour, weapons and credits of my dead colleagues and released the captives on the Citadel."

That works.

"It is good to share these tales with another soul," Samara said, "and I thank you for being so patient. I am sure you have many other pressing matters to attend to."

Not really, but I could take a hint as well as the next guy. Besides, it was as good a time as any to wrap things up. "I'll let you resume your meditations," I replied, heading for the door.

Just before I left, I turned back to Samara. "You know, the future hasn't been written yet," I said. "You still control the direction of your life."

"And I have chosen that path," Samara returned serenely. "I truly am at peace. Due in no small part to you."

As I walked through the doors, the song I'd loaded into the PA system started to play. Something for Samara... and Morinth.

"_Spend all your time waiting for that second chance.  
>For the break that will make it ok.<br>There's always some reason to feel not good enough  
>And it's hard at the end of the day.<br>_

"_I need some distraction, oh beautiful release.  
>Memories seep from my veins.<br>They may be empty and weightless and maybe  
>I'll find some peace tonight.<em>

_"In the arms of an Angel, fly away from here._  
><em>From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear.<em>  
><em>You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie.<em>  
><em>You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here."<em> **(11)**

* * *

><p><em>(1): A sentiment apparently shared by most individuals who meet justicars, asari or otherwise.<em>

_(2): Asari go through three stages throughout their lives, each with its own biochemical and physical changes. The Maiden stage, beginning at birth, manifests as curiosity, restlessness and the urge to explore and experience. At age 350, or earlier if she melds frequently, the asari enters the Matron stage, a period marked by a desire to settle down and raise children. The Matriarch stage begins at the age of 700, though it can start later if the asari rarely melds. This stage prompts a desire to become active in the community as a sage, councillor or some other role that allows others to benefit from her centuries of experience. It is worth noting, however, that there are exceptions to each stage, depending on the choices each asari makes._

_(3): I am fairly confident that Shepard is being sarcastic, though one must not discount his propensity for self-denial. _

_(4): I leave it up to the reader to decide whether Shepard's decision to cash in this favour for information was worth it._

_(5): While Shepard might agree to 'look into' matters, he rarely gave promises. His decision to do so was likely motivated by the sheer pain this woman was experiencing. _

_(6): While he may have been exaggerating, it is true that Shepard's modifications—both upon enlistment and during his time with Cerberus—and the myofibril bundles in his hardsuit would amplify his strength considerably. _

_(7): Readers will undoubtedly recall several women of Shepard's acquaintance who were attracted to him and did not qualify as 'bimbos.' _

_(8): Shepard's challenge appears to be a variation of a famous line quoted by Dirty Harry, played by the actor Clint Eastwood, in the 1971 movie 'Dirty Harry.'_

_(9): The ability to resist Morinth's persuasion is an impressive feat, even by Shepard's high standards. It is a testament to Shepard's strength of will... and the strength of his newfound and still-unresolved feelings for Ms. Lawson._

_(10): Nihlus Kryik was something of an outcast during his military service, infamous for following his instincts instead of orders—regardless of the fact that his hunches usually paid off. Saren Arterius was the Spectre who befriended and mentored him until he was asked to join the Spectres himself. Despite that dubious tutelage, Nihlus quickly made a name for himself. While he did not hesitate to eliminate anything or anyone that stood in his way, his methods were not as ruthless or brutal as his mentor. As readers may recall in his one and only conversation with Shepard, he also didn't share Saren's hatred for humanity, instead recognizing their potential._

_(11): 'Angel,' released by Sarah McLachlan in 1997._


	27. Taking Care of Business

**Chapter 19: Taking Care of Business**

After a not-so-delightful jaunt around the Citadel's ugly twin, it was time to pay a visit to the Citadel. Or maybe that should be going from Omega to the prettier twin of Omega. Whatever. We had a few things to do there, mainly installing the Thanix and the multicore shields and the...

I should probably explain all that, shouldn't I?

Whenever I wasn't gallivanting around the galaxy or risking my neck, I'd been researching and manufacturing various upgrades. At least, that's what I did once I'd strip-mined enough planets for the requisite minerals—hadn't had to probe a planet for weeks, thank _God_! Wait. That sounded dirty. Eh, you get the idea.

So, upgrades. Some of them were just items that only a few people could use—like a fancy omni-tool for Mordin or a jacked-up biotic amp for, well, Jack. Other things were for the Normandy herself, because I like spoiling her with any gift that will keep her pretty little hull—and my pretty little face—intact for another minute or two. I've already talked about the Thanix cannon—courtesy of Garrus—and how it could basically shoot streams of liquefied super-heated metal at super-high velocity. But there were a few other toys as well.

Jacob had used a few old contacts to get a hold of the specs for Silaris heavy ship armour. Asari in design, it was basically composed of carbon nanotube sheets scattered with diamond chemical vapour—whatever the heck that is—and crushed by mass effect fields. **(1)** The result was something that could be attached to the hull of the Normandy and shrug off the heat and kinetic energy of most starship weapons—rather than merely vaporizing away like standard ablative armour.

Another thing that needed upgrading was our kinetic barriers. See, standard kinetic barriers are designed to stop, well, kinetic energy. Like the kind accompanying mass accelerator rounds or torpedoes. Unfortunately, they're not so good against extreme levels of heat or radiation. Stuff like, say, the particle weapons of Collector ships. Tali's solution was the implementation of Cyclonic Barrier Technology. Basically it enhanced our existing mass effect field projectors so they could fire in rotation, creating a set of kinetic barriers that rapidly oscillated around the Normandy rather than keeping them stationary. As a result, these "spinning shields" could deflect attacks rather than just halt them. The best part was that if any of the emitters acted up, the whole system could default to a standard shield array. All the best parts of a prototype with the proven benefits of the ol' originals.

The only problem was that we hadn't actually installed any of the Normandy's upgrades. Oh, our fabricators could construct most of the components. But there were a few key items that required more sophisticated machinery. Plus, there were a few steps in the installation process that required the Normandy to be stationary and (mostly) powered-down. So either we shut down and drift helplessly through the emptiness of space or we find a place to dock. Oddly enough, I chose the latter. Oddly enough, I chose somewhere other than Omega.

Yeah, I know. I'm funny that way.

That was a month ago. Since then I'd gone on several more missions, endured multiple fire-fights, picked up an unexpected squad member and... had whatever relationship I might have had with a certain XO take a blind quantum leap into the unknown. I had no idea what to do with the last part at the time. Still didn't. So it was time to get some advice or, at the very least, find a sounding board to bounce thoughts off of. And there was only one person I could think of that I could trust.

The fact that I'd been meaning to reply to that person for the past several months ago since receiving her message was surely a coincidence:

_So I have to find out my child is alive third-hand from the Alliance brass? Where the hell have you been?_

_I figure whatever you're doing is classified, likely part of your Spectre Operations. Just stay safe out there, and keep doing your mom proud. And sneak something through a secure channel next time._

_Love,_  
><em>Your mother, Captain Hannah<em>

The only problem was that part about the secure channel. Don't get me wrong: I'm sure the encryption channels on the Normandy were top-notch. Unfortunately, I was also sure that Cerberus had the decryption subroutines and the money to pay drones to do nothing but monitor those channels.

Thankfully, I had a Plan B.

* * *

><p>"Shepard," Anderson greeted me warmly. "How are you doing?"<p>

"Same as usual," I replied dryly. "I don't know what I'd do with myself if I didn't fly around the galaxy, tangle with trigger-happy goons or set something on fire. How's life on the Citadel?"

"Spinning in circles, tripping over red tape and setting off a minefield of PR disasters," Anderson sighed. "Thank God I can pass some of that off on Udina. I swear he thrives on it."

"He's a sick, sick man," I said.

"True enough."

We held it together for about a minute before laughing out loud. I'd forgotten how good that felt. Or the last time I'd done that. **(2)** "So," Anderson chuckled, wiping a tear from his cheek, "what can I do for you?"

"I need to make a private call to an Alliance military vessel. Preferably without Cerberus listening in."

Anderson considered that request for a moment before pulling up a schedule. "Udina's in a meeting finalizing details on the next round of joint human-turian patrols. His office should be free for the next hour or so." He rummaged around to find a blank OSD, which he loaded into his computer. After a bit of digital magic, he pulled it out and handed it to me. "This will grant you access to Udina's computer and automatically engage the real-time communications software."

Exactly what I needed, with diplomatic-channel priority to boot. I thanked him, went to Udina's office and popped in the OSD. It only needed a minute to load up the program and access the nearest comm buoy, plus another minute to set up a connection to Mom's ship. While I waited, I may have propped my boots on Udina's squeaky clean desk. Hee, hee.

"_Captain Hannah Shepard, SSV Orizaba—wait a sec… is that really you?"_

I swung my boots down with a thud. Hadn't realized that this thing gave me a real-time video feed as well as audio. "Hi, Mom. Long time no see."

"_I'll say,"_ Mom smiled. _"Being a Spectre must really keep you busy if you were deep cover for two years."_

"Um… about that…" How the heck was I supposed to explain what had happened?

Mom came to the rescue. _"Tell me everything. From the beginning."_

I looked at the screen long enough to see that she was in her quarters—so I _did _program the call correctly—and complied. It didn't take as long as I'd thought it would.

"_So let me see if I understand,"_ she said. _"Councillor Anderson wasn't kidding about the Reapers. They really do exist and they really do mean to come and end life as we know it. The only reason they failed was because of the Protheans, who, by the way, _didn't _build the Citadel or the mass relays. So then they got Saren and the geth—no, a rogue faction of geth—to do their dirty work, but you stopped them. Good job, by the way. I never got a chance to tell you how proud I was of you. Anyway, after that plan fell apart, the Reapers sent another Big Bad—the Collectors—to blow up the Normandy and space you. __**(3)**__ Then the Collectors started rounding up random human colonies. The Alliance isn't doing anything to find out why or stop them. The Council won't do diddly aside from reinstating your Spectre status. So you're stuck with a boatload of Cerberus terrorists and whatever miscreants you can scrounge up."_

"That's about it."

"_I'm sorry, dear. That sucks." _

"Tell me about it."

"_That sucks."_

"Very funny."

"_I thought so. What else is on your mind?"_

"Huh?"

"_You didn't call me just because you were really, really late in responding to my e-mail. What else is on your mind?"_

She's good. Must be a Mom thing. "Well… I met a girl. Woman. You know."

"Finally_. Never thought I'd see the day. Tell me about her."_

"Um… her name is Miranda… and… uh…"

"_Is she smart?"_

"Smarter than I am."

"_Good. Is she funny?"_

"Not really. Unless it's a really dry form of humour."

"_Eh, can't win 'em all. Good-looking?" _

"Gorgeous."

Whoa. Did I just say that out loud?

"_So what's the problem?"_

"Who said there was a—"

"_Don't make me come over there and smack you."_

"She's my XO."

"_It's been known to happen. Just make sure you have someone to act as a tie-breaker or assume command if the two of you mix your personal and professional lives. Next."_

"Did I mention her lack of a sense of humour?"

"_Did I mention that you can't win 'em all? Next."_

"Um… she's working for Cerberus."

"_Is that it?"_

I stared at her for a moment. "Whaddya mean, 'is that it?'"

"_You've been making up excuses not to date people since you were a child. Granted, the few times you _did _go out either ended in disaster or proved that they were witless bimbos—damn it, there goes my New Year's resolution. I mean, they proved they weren't worth your time. Still, you're a Spectre now, so rules against fraternization are more like guidelines in your case." _

"So the part about her being Cerberus isn't a big deal?"

"_Oh, it's a big deal all right, but I think you're using that as an excuse. I think you're afraid that something good might have entered your life and, if you stop to enjoy it, you'll get rejected and hurt. Again."_

"But…"

"_Life's too short. And there's never enough joy in it. If you've found some, you should grab it. So the question is: have you found some?" _

"Well…"

"_Simple question. Have you found some? Yes or no?"_

I had no idea. It wasn't as if I had a lot of experience with that sort of thing. Finding out the object of my affection was already involved with someone else—lost track of the number of times that happened. Being asked some variant of "Why can't we just be friends?"—been there, done that. Heck, I've even been told "You remind me of my brother."

I've been on the flip side, too: I was practically an expert when it came to going out with someone only to find out they were idiots, simply naive or didn't have any spark with me whatsoever. And don't get me started on the unwanted attention being the so-called Hero of the Skyllian Blitz got me on the social front. All of a sudden, every Tina, Darla and Henrietta wanted a piece of me, just so they could get some time in the limelight (not because they actually gave a damn about me).

I tried to tell myself I didn't care. That it kept me single, free and not shackled with a ball and chains. That it wasn't meant to be. Believe it or not, that usually worked. For a time. Then I'd stumble across some couple making out. Or doing some big romantic thing together. Or just holding hands. Then it would hit me. _Hard_. And I'd go staring at them, wondering why something like that could happen to every lucky bastard except me and what I'd screwed up in a past life to deserve such a fate.

So I really had no way to know whether I'd 'found some.' I thought about it for a long time before finally giving up, taking a flying mental leap into the unknown and said the first string of words that popped up before my mind could catch up: "I guess. Yeah. So what should I do?"

"_What do you think you should do?"_

"I dunno… I guess—"

"_Oh for crying out loud! You're thirty-one years old and you can't even—look, clear the air with her. Ask her, flat out, where this relationship is going—assuming there is a relationship at all. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's nothing. But at least you'll know for sure."_

"And if it's nothing?"

"_Then you'll feel like someone sucker-punched you and ripped your heart out. Again. But you'll recover, you'll learn and you'll move on. You have to, because to do otherwise would be a real lousy way to go through life."_

"What if she's just playing me? Because Cerberus said so or because she's just bored and—"

"_Kneecap the bitch, drag her to the nearest airlock and space her sorry ass."_

That's my mom. Paragon of diplomacy, especially when her baby kid was involved. **(4)**

"_I know it won't be easy for you, honey. But it's better than leaving that question dangling over your head. And you need your head clear, especially if this mission is as dangerous as you say it is."_

"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "I guess I just needed to make sure I wasn't crazy."

"_Oh, you're crazy all right. But if it's the real thing—it's worth it."_

"Right." With that depressing thought in mind, I changed the subject. "So, what else is new?"

"_Well, Ellie got married six months ago."_

"You mean she finally tied the knot with Captain—"

"_Please don't call him that. It's disrespectful. Even if it's true." _

* * *

><p>Mom and I chatted for another hour. We finished before Udina came back—I'm still not sure whether that's a good or bad thing. Then I had to catch up with the squad. I found them outside some Japanese noodle place. Kasumi was staring at the food longingly.<p>

"You know what I haven't had in ages?" she asked wistfully. "_Ramen_."

Grunt leaned forward, sniffed and grimaced. "This is what passes for food out here? My tastes run more along the lines of 'edible.'"

"My grandmother used to make the best ramen. _Delicious_."

"Looks like worms. Dead ones. This a human thing?"

"Thinking back, I really should have stolen her recipe."

"Ugh. I'll pass. I'll eat almost anything, but I stress _almost_."

Kasumi turned and stared up at Grunt. "What are you talking about?"

"What are _you _talking about?" Grunt growled back.

Gardner—and the rest of the crew—would be relieved to find out that there was something Grunt wouldn't eat. Our stomachs would be a lot less empty and a lot more happy. I was about to ask if the noodle shop did bulk deliveries when I overheard a nearby volus.

"_*hiss*_ This clanless is a thief _*hiss*_ and I want her arrested. _*hiss*_"

"Wha—I was just walking by!"

Looking around, I saw a volus, a quarian and a bored human C-Sec officer. Curious, I walked over. The C-Sec officer tried to wave me away. "I'm sorry; I'm trying to take a statement here."

"_*hiss*_ There's nothing to talk about! _*hiss*_" the volus insisted. "She stole my credit chit. _*hiss*_ Arrest her! _*hiss*_"

"I did not!" the quarian said hotly. "Just because I'm a quarian—"

"I need you to stop and take a deep breath," the C-Sec officer recited in an automatic calm-the-complainant-down tone."

"_*hiss*_You're mocking _*hiss*_ me, _*hiss* _Earth-clan! _*hiss*_ Just because the Vol-clan need respira—"

"It was a poor choice of words, sir," the officer said automatically. "I apologize."

I decided to let the C-Sec officer grovel to the volus and turned to the quarian. "You say you're falsely accused, Miss..."

"Lia'Vael nar Ulnay," she identified herself. "I was walking to the used ship dealer when this volus barged into me outside the Sirta Foundation. He didn't stop or say he was sorry." Her tone became increasingly indignant as she continued. "A minute later, he runs up with C-Sec and accuses me of stealing his damn chit."

I'd passed by that shop before. The oily-looking volus who ran the place kept trying to sell me used shuttles. Even offered to throw in a model ship for free. "Any particular reason why you were checking out the used ship dealer's shop?"

"They've got a lot of nice models," Lia'Vael replied. "I'd like to buy one and take it back to the Fleet but..."

Not surprisingly, Tali figured it out. "Your Pilgrimage isn't going so well, is it?"

"No. I... I came here thinking there'd be a lot of work. EVA stuff. Salvage. Fixing all the damage the geth attack caused. Everywhere I went to apply, signs said 'Not hiring quarians.' And the other people would give me dirty looks."

Boy, that sucked. I would have said as much, but somebody had to maintain the appearance of impartiality. "And you are?" I asked the volus.

"_*hiss* _Kor Tun."

"Kor Tun," I repeated. "Is it possible the chit fell out of your pocket outside the Sirta Foundation?"

"No," he scoffed. "_*hiss* _She stole my credit chit. _*hiss*_ When I left the Sirta Foundation store, she ran right into me. _*hiss*_"

"And that automatically means she stole it?"

"_*hiss* _That's how pickpockets work. _*hiss*_ They bump into you _*hiss*_ and use that as a cover for rifling your pockets. _*hiss*_ You can't turn your back on these _*hiss*_ clanless quarians. _*hiss* _Thieves, _*hiss*_ all of them. _*hiss*_"

Definite bias here, but his concerns about pickpocket tactics weren't entirely unwarranted. My thoughts were interrupted by Tali, who barged forward to stare down at Kor Tun. "Quarians are only forced to steal when people like you won't let them have real jobs," she snapped.

"_*hiss*_ And to think my taxes pay _*hiss*_ to you here," Kor Tun sneered. "_*hiss* _Go back to your fleet, _*hiss* clanless_. _*hiss*_"

"I am clan Zorah," Tali corrected him coldly, "crew of the starship Neema. And you are an idiot."

"Tali," I murmured quietly. "Not helping."

"My brain agrees with you," Tali replied. "My gut says I should jack his suit's olfactory filters so that everything smells like refuse."

Garrus casually took a step away from her. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Can you really do that?" Kasumi asked curiously. "I know some people who... nah, forget it."

"Officer Tammert," I said, reading the ID on the C-Sec officer's badge. "Do you know who's telling the truth?"

Tammert cast a disparaging look at Lia'Vael. "My omni-tool can tell the quarian doesn't have a chit on her. But she could have stashed it to recover later. You know what quarians are like. And she's definitely a vagrant. I'll run her in and see what Bailey wants to do with her."

"She's not a vagrant," Tali protested. "She's on Pilgrimage. It's a tradition in which—"

"Look, you can take your traditions and cram them," Tammert cut in rudely. "Every time a _quarian_ shows up here, it's trouble." **(5)**

Oh yeah. Definitely needed someone impartial here. "You know what?" I said brightly. "I've got some spare time. Why don't I look around and see if I can find out what happened?"

"Sir, this is a C-Sec matter," Tammert responded automatically. "We'll do all we—"

"_*hiss* _Bah," Kor Tun interrupted.

"—all we can to resolve this," Tammert continued without a hitch. "We don't need civilian help. If you do happen to find the chit, please let one of our officers know."

I decided not to bother correcting Tammert. Motioning for the others to follow me, I took a few steps away. "Team Two, keep an eye on them and make sure they don't go too far. Team One—and Tali—come with me."

"Why can't I stay here?" Tali demanded.

"Because I don't want you to succumb to your gut and give Kor Tun an irrefutable reason to grumble."

"Fine." Tali said that rather sulkily, I thought, but I decided to let it pass and led the team to the Sirta Foundation. Unfortunately, the clerk didn't recall anyone accidentally losing anything. So I decided to wander around and try some of the other stores.

"Ah, my favourite customer!" Marab grinned as I walked into Saronis Applications. "What can I do for you?"

"A volus was in here not too long ago," I replied. "Did he drop a credit chit by any chance?"

"Oh! Yes! He bought some environmental system drivers, then left without his chit. I didn't notice he'd left it until he was already gone. If you see him, tell him I have it here behind the counter."

"Great," I nodded. "He'll be glad to hear that. Thanks!"

"Not a problem," Marab beamed. "Have a good day."

I hurried back to find Lia'Vael and the others. As it turned out, I didn't need to hurry. They were still in the same spot, merrily arguing away. Tammert was the first one to notice me. "You again? I told you that this is an official C-Sec matter. What are you doing back here?"

"Just basking in the glow of your compassion," I replied before promptly ignoring him. "You forget your credit chit at Saronis Applications," I told Kor Tun. The clerk is holding it for you."

"_*hiss* _Oh. _*hiss* _Well. _*hiss* _The quarian could've stolen it."

The hell?

"I'll close this event report." Tammert tapped his datapad before giving Lia'Vael a scowl. "But I'll be watching you. Get a permanent residence or I'll run you in for vagrancy."

Oh that was just too much. "Are you kidding me?" I burst out. "I can't believe you guys are actually serious!"

"_*hiss*_ What are you talking about? _*hiss*_"

"You falsely accused this girl of stealing from you," I said, glaring at Kor Tun. "And when you found out you were wrong, all you have to say is that she 'could have' stolen it?"

"_*hiss*_ Now just a min—"

I shoved Kor Tun aside and grabbed a handful of Tammert's uniform. "And you," I continued, pulling him towards me. "She gets harassed and insulted by this guy and you just side with him? And throw in a threat to arrest her for vagrancy?"

Tammert apparently didn't appreciate being dressed down like that. Or he just didn't like anyone wrinkling his uniform. "How about I run you in for ob struction of justice?" he snapped.

I gave him a cold smile. "You think you're going to 'run in' a Spectre?"

Tammert's face suddenly turned very pale. About time, the little prick. "I think both of you should get out of here. Now."

Kor Tun waddled off without a word. Tammert just shuffled away with a muttered "Son of a..." Lia'Vael watched them go before turning back to me. "Thank you," she said softly. "I... I wish I could give you something more than words."

"What the hell was that C-Sec guy's problem?" I asked, looking at her and my squad. "He had no evidence that you did anything wrong."

"I don't know," Lia'Vael sighed. "Everyone's been like this since I got here."

"The Citadel has never been tolerant of quarians on Pilgrimage," Tali explained. "The geth attack two years ago must have made it worse."

I nodded my understanding and looked at Lia'Vael. "Can you take care of yourself from here?"

"I guess," she shrugged. "I mean, most nights I eat nutrient paste in a turian shelter. But I'm surviving."

"The rations I have right now aren't much better," Tali offered. "Good luck, Lia'Vael."

"Thanks." **(6)**

* * *

><p>We ran into another case of C-Sec brilliance on our way back to the Normandy. I had just finished a sweep of the stores for any goodies when I passed a pair of asari. "I can't believe these humans," one of them grumbled. "No-fly lists? What have they turned this place into?"<p>

Coming to a stop, I doubled back to them. "I'm couldn't help but overhear you talking," I confessed. "Having a problem, I take it?"

"It's a private matter," the asari who'd spoken earlier replied firmly.

For once, someone actually recognized that I was sticking my nose in places where it didn't belong. Not that that would stop my rapacious curiosity. "Fair enough," I nodded, "but give me a chance. Maybe I can help."

"I don't see why you would," the asari said coolly. Her companion gave her a nudge. They exchanged a look. The self-appointed spokeswoman sighed and gave in. "Since your kind gained a seat on the Council, they've taken over C-Sec Customs. There are hundreds of new security checks and travel restrictions. We've been flagged as a potential risk for geth infiltration. They won't let us board a ship back to asari space."

"Why would they consider you a risk?" I frowned. "You're obviously not geth. Did you have anything with you or go anywhere that might have suggested that?"

"This is the first time we left Thessia in a decade," the asari complained, "and we haven't been anywhere other than here. I don't know why they flagged us because they wouldn't say anything! We got on a list somewhere, for some reason, and they won't tell us anything because 'it's classified!'"

"Where did you find out about this?"

"Some pencil-pusher at the shuttle port told us," she sniffed. "The one outside the C-Sec station."

"Why don't I see what's going on?" I offered. "If you give me your names, I can try and get it sorted out."

"I'm not holding my breath," she sneered.

The other asari spoke for the first time. "I doubt you can help us, human, but you probably couldn't make matters any worse. I'm Valera Salir and this is my friend, Kalara Tomi."

"Valera Salir; Kalara Tomi. Got it."

"Bitch," Jack muttered as we left.

"Maybe, but she might have a reason to be so pissed," I shrugged. "Let's hear the C-Sec officer's side of the story."

"You just wanna be a goddamn hero again," Zaeed snorted.

"It's a bad habit of mine," I admitted.

It didn't take long before we found the 'pencil-pusher': a bland, wooden-faced human woman. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"It's been a couple of years since I passed through here," I said, deciding to start off with a related question instead of jumping straight to the point. "Security seems to have tightened a bit."

"After the geth attack, there was a review of security protocol," she replied. "A few minor changes were made to reduce the risk of geth infiltration. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Legion had only recently joined the squad and they hadn't actually participated in any combat. **(7)** That's the only reason why it didn't occur to me that there might be a potential disaster until Legion stated "Geth do not infiltrate."

Uh oh.

The C-Sec officer turned to look at Legion. I braced myself for the worst.

"You should leave your personal synthetic assistant at home," the C-Sec officer advised me. "They're not allowed on public shuttles anymore."

...

Oh for crying out loud.

I could tell Legion was perplexed by this development by the way they tilted their head and flared their face-plates. "Geth do not intentionally infiltrate," they finally amended.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see some of my squad shaking their head. I couldn't blame them. If she was so rigid as to enforce policy without knowing what said policies were looking for, how could she possibly help me? If I had known beforehand—aw, screw it. I was already here.

"I talked to a couple of asari—Valera Salir and Kalara Tomi. They say customs won't let them leave the station, but they weren't told why. Can you help me out?"

The C-Sec officer didn't even reach towards her console. "I'm sorry, sir," she said automatically, "but all matters related to station security are classified. We can't risk geth infiltration."

A bit too late for that.

"Revealing why someone is on a watch list might compromise the safety of C-Sec's undercover agents."

"Did you talk with them?" I asked. "Checked out where they'd been? What they'd done? Did they seem like geth agents to you?"

She rubbed her forehead. Clearly she wasn't used to someone challenging her with common sense. "Well, no," she admitted, "but you can never be sure."

Oh for crying out—I'm all for security precautions, but only when they're applied properly. This willy-nilly approach just defeated the whole purpose for those precautions. I took a deep breath to calm myself before I blew up my last few neurons by banging my head on the desk. "Look, miss," I said, "I don't understand how you can classify them as geth agents without any tangible proof. As for the issue of them being geth infiltrators, well, I've fought hundreds of them. I can assure you that they are not geth infiltrators. The lack of flashlight heads was kind of a giveaway."

That last part might be a risk, given that there was a squad mate with a flashlight head to my right, but something told me I didn't have much to worry about.

"I'm not saying it makes any sense," the C-Sec officer said, displaying the first sign of intelligence since this conversation began. "Those are the rules I have to enforce." **(8)**

"And there's nothing you can do?" I asked sceptically.

She sighed and reached for her console. Leaning over, I could see her accessing Salir's and Tomi's files. "I can't get them cleared," she said, "but I can flag the case file for review. That will allow them to travel in the meantime."

"Sounds like the best you can do under the circumstances," I nodded.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Thankfully, not. "I'm fine. Thanks for your help."

"Next."

Gratefully leaving this poster child for bureaucracy behind, I went back to deliver the good news. The two asari looked at each other in astonishment. "You what?" Tomi finally said, slowly getting to her feet. "How did you do that?"

"I explained how their methods are flawed," I explained simply. "I've fought a lot of geth in my time."

"Few have," Tomi marvelled. "How unexpected." She turned to Salir. "We should get ready to leave," she told her. "There should be another ship heading to Thessia tomorrow."

With that, the two left. I was starting to wonder if their mothers had forgotten to teach them any manners when Salir doubled back, pressed a thousand credits into my hands and ran off to catch up with her friend.

Well, it wasn't as verbal as a 'thank you,' but I suppose it would have to suffice.

* * *

><p>It took a while before I could muster the nerve to visit Miranda. In my mind, the longer I put it off, the longer I could avoid the chance of getting sucker-punched and having my heart ripped out. Again. Seemed logical enough to me. Too bad logic had nothing to do with this… whatever it was. Eventually I took the elevator down to Deck Three. I took a deep breath and walked into Miranda's office. "Hey there. You have a minute?"<p>

"I do," she nodded. "I suppose we should talk."

"Yeah."

…

…

"Well—" I said.

"I don't know what this is," Miranda started, standing up and gripping her chair tightly. "If this is stress or blowing off steam or…"

"I don't know," I said mildly. "I didn't mind."

"It was a mistake," she burst out.

Ouch. That hurt.

"Oh don't look like that," she sighed, pacing over to her bed. "You know it was a mistake. This is no time for emotional entanglement! You and I know more about the Collectors than anyone. We know how _unlikely _it is that we're coming back alive! That... that kiss... I shouldn't have done that."

Still feeling hurt. And a little angry. "If it was that big a mistake," I snapped, "then why the hell did you kiss me? Because you were bored?"

"No, I—"

"Because you wanted to fool around with my head? What—all that time spent putting me back together wasn't enough?"

"No, it's not that—"

"Then why?"

"Well—"

"WHY?"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO!"

...

...

...

Oh.

Wow.

Miranda numbly sat down on her bed. There was a sheer look of horror and panic on her face—something she probably hadn't experienced in a while. Like that kiss. Which probably made it that much scarier.

"Did I say...? I didn't mean... oh no. This is... this is ridiculous. Absolutely... what idiotic bunch of hormones thought _now _was a great time for lo…?"

That string of uncharacteristic babble came to a complete and abrupt halt. Miranda's eyes widened. Her mouth dropped. Either because it had sunk in that she was actually saying all this or she had realized it might be true and that she really lo…

Oh.

Wow.

Now it was my turn to widen my eyes, drop my jaw and freak out.

We stood there for a good minute. Or hour. Or something. Eventually, it occurred to me that one of us had to break the silence. And it looked like that lucky bastard was gonna be me. My only consolation was the fact that she wasn't trying to screw with me—oh. Geez. Poor choice of words.

"Look, I want this," I said at last, surprising myself with the truth behind that statement. "I want to see where it goes. I want to see how far it'll go. And I think you do, too. At least, I think you do. You do want this, don't you? I mean, okay, on a scale of one to ten, where one is you'd rather stick your head in a blender and ten is—"

"Yes."

"Huh?" After indulging in my own uncharacteristic bit of babbling, it was nice to return to simple, one-word responses.

"Yes. Ten. Whatever."

Clearly simple, one-word responses worked for her as well.

Miranda took a deep breath before continuing. "I meant what I said earlier: I want this. All of it. It's like… I wanted to ensure Oriana's safety. Her future. Her life. But I didn't realize I wanted to actually see her. To talk to her. To get to know her beyond hacked vid-cam recordings and official records. I never realized how painful it was to watch her from a distance but never be a part of her life until I heard her talk. Not just some recording of her in a random conversation either—she was actually talking to me. And all of a sudden, I wanted a real connection with my sister so _badly_. I guess… I guess I want this too."

"Good to know," I offered, somewhat lamely. I guess I was relieved that the odds of her pulling a fast one on me or turning me down were continuing to drop.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay."

More silence. "So now what?" Miranda finally asked.

I'd been so preoccupied with this elephant on my shoulders, I hadn't actually thought that far. "Um… most people go on a date. Or grab some coffee."

Miranda bit her lip. "I'd rather keep this between us. It's, well, I'm a very private person."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed."

Her lip twitched. She looked so cute doing tha—oh boy.

I had it _bad_, didn't I?

"I don't want to broadcast this over the extranet or anything either," I agreed, "but you do realize we're on a ship, right? Scuttlebutt's going to pick up on this and spread it around sooner or later."

"I know," she sighed, "but I'd rather go for later. If nothing else, it might distract them. Which is another thing—"

"Our personal… whatever-this-is can't interfere with day-to-day operations, command decisions or the overall mission," I interrupted. "Agreed." I didn't want that either. The odds of us surviving this mission were catastrophically low as it was. We didn't need to make it even more difficult by going all googly-eyed at each other when we should be watching out for bullets. Besides, the last thing I needed was another excuse to get cold feet. "Anything else?"

Miranda shrugged helplessly. "Only that I have no idea what to do next. Normally, I'd suggest what you did—a date. A cup of coffee. _Something_. But all of that will raise too many questions. If we're going to do this, I just want something quiet. Just the two of us, without witnesses."

An idea germinated inside my noggin. I let it grow and flourish before finally opening my mouth. "I have an idea…"

* * *

><p>It was an hour before the next shift change. Gardner had retired for the night and everyone else was either still on duty or getting ready to start the graveyard shift. Which meant no one was around when I snuck into the mess hall, found what I was looking for, grabbed it and headed over to Miranda's office.<p>

Sure enough, Miranda had placed two cups and two plates on her desk. She raised an eyebrow when I deposited the goodies I'd liberated—apparently, one normally doesn't pair jasmine tea with chocolate-dipped, triple-chocolate brownies—but took a sip of the tea anyway. Sitting down, I took the datapad Miranda handed me, thumbed it on and took a bite out of the brownie. While I chewed, I started filling out the various maintenance and status reports that she had downloaded. **(9)**

"Thanix cannons are installed and operational," I said idly. "Apparently it's doubled the power draw of our weapon systems."

"Will they be a problem?" Miranda asked.

"Nah," I shook my head. "Ken said something about tweaking the forward capacitors to compensate. I'm surprised we don't have the same issues with Tali's shield upgrades."

"Actually, those upgrades had built-in capacitor sub-systems," Miranda corrected, "so any additional power draw would be minimal."

"That's what Ken and Gabby said," I nodded. "Though that means we won't be able to take on an entire fleet and survive."

"Exactly. As befits a stealth ship, the shields were designed to deflect any attacks the Normandy might take during insertion or extraction. This upgrade simply means that we'll be able to deflect stronger attacks now."

"As long as that includes anything the Collectors can throw at us, I'm fine with that."

"Agreed."

A few minutes passed while we worked, ate and drank in silence. At some point I looked up to see a slight smile on Miranda's face. It looked good on her.

"Something I can do for you?"

"Huh?" I asked.

"You were staring."

"I was?"

"You were."

"Oh. You were smiling."

"I was?"

"You were."

"Oh. Crewman Rolston sent a thank-you for my efforts in expediting his family's relocation."

"Right," I recalled. "They were on New Canton—oh geez." I jerked up, half-remembering a conversation I'd heard during my meanderings. How could I have forgotten? "The Collectors hit New Canton. Did they—"

"They were relocated in time," Miranda reassured me. "Their shuttle touched down in San Francisco a week ago."

Phew.

"Rolston attached an audio clip," she added. She must have opened it, as the next thing we heard was a girl giggling away over the speakers. Rolston's one-year old daughter, if memory served. "That's kinda cute," I had to admit.

"Yeah. It is."

We sat there quietly, long after the clip ended. "What about the armour upgrades?" Miranda asked. "Did they require any adjustments in the Normandy's operations?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Something about the added weight throwing off the gravimetric profile, but it was fixed with some Gilbourne and anterior intakes."

"Rebalancing the Gilbourne coefficients and adjusting the anterior intakes on the second tier stabilizers?" Miranda guessed.

"Yeah, something like that. Hopefully whatever they did worked."

"If not, Mister Moreau will have something to do besides surf the extranet for porn."

I jerked my head up again. "You mean you _know _about that?"

Miranda gave me a look.

"Right. Of course you knew. Never mind." I turned my attention back to the datapad. "I don't know why he bothers," I said, signing off on the receipt for three cases of ramen. "Couldn't he just fill out a subscription to 'Fornax' or something? It only costs four creds per issue."

"I'm delighted to hear you're so knowledgeable about that," Miranda said dubiously.

"I'm not," I replied defensively. "That's the price quoted on Marsh's kiosk back on Omega."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not into that sort of thing."

"Mm, hmm."

"Seriously. Hanar don't turn me on."

"Good to know."

"Are you making fun of me?"

...

"Well? Are you?"

* * *

><p><em>(1): As a point of interest, the construction of this armour also compensated for the inherent brittleness of diamonds. <em>

_(2): So had I, to be honest. Admiral Hackett and numerous other colleagues had advised me that laughing was a key part of getting through each day with my sanity intact, particularly in my current career. After my meeting with Shepard, I vowed to laugh more often._

_(3): A rather obscure term from late twentieth-century popular culture referring to a notable adversary or nemesis. _

_(4): Captain Shepard was offered a promotion to admiral following the death of her son. She declined, with much more tact than presented in this conversation; explaining that the offer was more likely politically motivated and that that she could better honour her son's memory as a 'mere' captain. _

_(5): Regrettably, some failings are truly universal. Thankfully, there are several other individuals—Shepard, included—who truly represent what humanity stands for. _

_(6): Shepard later reported this incident to Captain Bailey. As this was not the first such incident, Officer Tammert was temporarily relieved of his duties and responsibilities and ordered to attend a variety of prejudice-reduction seminars—several of which were on other planets; all of which were paid out of his own pocket. Following that, Tammert was reassigned to rotate through the other Wards of the Citadel, which had a much greater non-human population. _

_(7): This is the first time that Shepard specifically refers to the entity known as Legion in the plural, rather than including both the singular and plural forms of address, probably to make his logs more streamlined and less cumbersome. _

_(8): There were numerous complaints about these rules and regulations, which ate up an inordinate amount of my time. I must shoulder some of the blame for that, however, as I ultimately allowed them to be enacted in the first place without proper review and consideration. _

_(9): Shepard would subsequently take a great deal of pleasure in telling overly curious reporters, paparazzi, colleagues and friends that he spent his first date with Ms. Lawson in her office/quarters reviewing status reports. _


	28. Personnel Report: Garrus

_Editorial Note: In this personnel report, Shepard examines his long-standing relationship with Garrus Vakarian, how he had grown since they had last served together and how he still needed a voice of reason during a rather personal mission. _

**Personnel Report—Garrus Vakarian**

I can't tell you how much of a relief it was to see Garrus again. He was the first of the old squad to join the team. The first familiar face. The first guy I could rely on without any doubt of his loyalty or question as to his competence.

As we fought our way out of—or into—disaster after disaster, it became clear that he had picked up a lot over the last few years. I remembered back on Virmire when Kaidan went with Captain Kirrahe and I needed a replacement. I'd chosen Garrus to fill his shoes, mostly because he'd done a decent job before. But now? Comparing his performance back then to the way he led Team Two now was like comparing a newbie on his first day in Basic to a graduate from N7 special ops. He had a near-photographic situational awareness of the battlefield and used that to adjust the team's tactics to spectacular effect. I lost track of the number of times that he'd made a recommendation or gave an order to the squad without clearing it with me first—and his judgement was bang-on every single time. Heck, he could even do that while scoring headshots—which is really impressive when you consider how narrow your awareness becomes when you're squinting through a sniper scope. **(1)**

Then again, Garrus had taken it hard when Ashley died. We all had, of course, but Garrus had blamed himself even more since Ash was under his command at the time. He also must've taken it hard when I died if he decided to revert to his 'screw-stupid-bureaucracy' mode and sally forth to kill mercs on Omega. And if I had any doubts about whether he felt guilty over the decimation of his entire team, they were obliterated when I received the following e-mail shortly after rescuing Garrus:

_From: Nalah Butler_

_Commander Shepard,_

_My husband was one of the men serving on Garrus' team. I don't know how much Garrus talked to you about what happened. I don't know the specifics myself, only that my husband died in a trap set by those bastard gangs. I know Garrus blames himself; he took every shot fired at his squad as __a failure on his part, and it was clear when he sent me the message about my husband that he thinks it was his fault._

_My husband would never have wanted that. He was proud of the work he did on Garrus' squad. He was taking back Omega from the gangs. He died fighting with honour. I miss him. God, I'd give anything to get him back. But whatever happened there wasn't Garrus' fault._

_You're his commander now. Please, if you can, help him stop blaming himself. And please don't tell that I sent you this. Thank you._

_-__Nalah Butler_

So I guess I wasn't too surprised when Garrus sent word that he wanted to talk to me as soon as possible. I guess I also wasn't too surprised when I had to wait a couple minutes before he was free, as he was occupied with yet another calibration.

"Shepard. I'm glad you came by," he said tersely. "I've got something. I may need your help. You remember Sidonis?"

Yeah, I remembered. He was the only other member of Garrus's vigilante squad who'd survived; apparently because he ratted them out to the gangs they were trying to fight. Garrus hadn't exactly said what would happen if he ever found him, but he'd hinted it wouldn't be getting together to knock back a couple of beers. "Yeah," I said slowly. "What about him?"

"I've found a lead on him. There's a specialist on the Citadel called Fade. He's an expert at helping people disappear. Sidonis was seen with him."

"You never exactly specified how Sidonis betrayed you guys."

Garrus clenched his fists. "He tipped off the mercs. Told them where our base was. He drew me out with a false job, then let the mercs hit my team. My men weren't prepared. They tried to hold them off... by the time I got back, there were only two survivors. They didn't last long. All ten of them, dead. Because of him."

I had a feeling where this was going, but I wanted to hear it from him. "What are you planning on doing when you find him?"

"You humans have a saying: 'an eye for an eye.' A life for a life."

Uh, oh.

"He owes me ten lives. I plan to collect."

"You sure that's how you want to play it?" I frowned.

"I'm sure. I don't need you to agree with me, but I'd like your help."

My first instinct was to say no and try to reason with him. The glint in his eyes told me reason had left the building a long time ago. And my gut was telling me that if I refused, he'd decide to take an unscheduled trip to the Citadel. Alone. And then Jacob would be stuck leading Team Two.

"Where do we find Fade?" I finally asked.

"I've arranged a meeting," Garrus replied. "We'll meet him in a warehouse near the Neon Markets, down on Zakera Ward."

He'd evidently decided that our conversation was over, because he went back to his calibrations. As he turned away, I got a good look at his visor. Eleven names were etched into the ceramic. One of them was erased with sharp, jagged lines.

Hoo boy. This was gonna be interesting.

* * *

><p>It occurred to me that C-Sec might have some knowledge of this 'Fade,' something that EDI's perusal of their crime reports confirmed, so I decided to talk to the guy in charge of that particular bailiwick.<p>

"Shepard," Bailey greeted me. "How can I help—oh hell, it's you."

It took me a second to realize he wasn't talking to me. I followed his gaze. "Something you want to tell me, Garrus?"

"I may not have left C-Sec on the best of terms," Garrus said delicately.

Bailey was a little more blunt. "You finished your last assignment by shooting up half a building."

"Isn't that an improvement?" Garrus asked. "Usually I burn them down."

"Garrus!"

"I have this problem with buildings. You know that."

I knew there was a reason I liked Garrus. "What exactly happened?" I asked.

"I busted a red sand smuggling operation that was using an antique shop as a front. Damn thing provided half of the red sand on the Citadel," Garrus explained before turning his attention to Bailey. "Which someone should know. You certainly weren't complaining when I handed in my report."

"That was before C-Sec was inundated by lawsuits from the antique shop," Bailey sighed, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't believe how loudly civilians can complain of having post-traumatic stress disorder. Still, you're right. I shouldn't complain. You became more of a headache once you went freelance."

"Easier to burn down buildings when you don't have to follow regulations," Garrus shrugged.

Bailey glared at him. "You know, we threw a party when you disappeared."

"Don't worry," I reassured him. "We won't be here too long. I hope. The sooner you help us out, the sooner we'll be on our way."

"And then you can have another party," Garrus added cheekily.

"We're looking for Fade," I finished hastily.

Bailey's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I know of him—the alias, anyway. He's been a thorn in the Network division's side for the last year. Works with the Blue Suns."

Blue Suns? Here? TPTB wouldn't be pleased with that. I could imagine their reaction when they received the news. Probably something like: "Blue Suns? The private security contractors allegedly involved in racketeering and other illegal activities? Eh, we have dismissed those claims."

"Where can we find him?" Garrus asked.

"If I knew that, he'd be in a cell," Bailey replied. "Best I can do is put you on the trail. There's a warehouse in the marketplace. Some of Fade's contacts work out of there."

"Neon Markets." Garrus didn't so much say that as much as he stated it.

"Yeah, that's the one," Bailey nodded. "Go ask them some questions." His lips jerked sardonically as he added "Gently, of course."

"Don't I always?" Garrus asked.

Bailey burst out into laughter. I waited until he settled down and wiped the tears from his eyes before asking my next question: "Why haven't you been able to catch him?"

"Whoever he is, he's damned good at avoiding C-Sec. I think someone on the inside's feeding him information. Either that, or he's got access to our databases and comm channels." He shook his head and sighed. "I don't know which is worse.

"But you're outside C-Sec. Maybe you can nail his ass."

With that cheerful thought in mind, we sauntered on over to the warehouse. A pair of krogan were leaning against a stack of barrels inside, trying to look casual and failing miserably. We hadn't been in there for a minute before a volus waddled out. The krogan formed up behind him. I looked down on him sceptically. "Fade?" The volus nodded. "You aren't what I expected," I observed.

"_*hiss* _Looks can be deceiving. _*hiss* _So... _*hiss* _which one of you wants to disappear? _*hiss*_"

"I'd rather see you make someone reappear," Garrus responded.

'Fade' was a bit taken aback by that request. "_*hiss*_ Ah... _*hiss*_ that's not the service we provide. _*hiss*_"

"Make an exception." To my surprise—and dismay—Garrus pulled out his assault rifle. "Just this once."

"_*hiss*_ Damn it," 'Fade' cursed. "Quick... _*hiss*_ shoot them! Shoot them, you lumbering mountains! _*hiss*_"

Belatedly, the krogan realized they were receiving an order and pulled out their own weapons. By then, my squad was already aiming at them. "Why don't you two find somewhere else to skulk?" Garrus suggested.

The krogan assessed the odds, looked at each other, holstered their weapons and walked away. 'Fade' watched them leave, sputtering in disbelief. "_*hiss*_ Just like that? _*hiss*_ You're not getting paid for this! _*hiss*_" he threatened. Seeing that the krogan weren't coming back, his shoulders slumping. "_*hiss* _What's the point of hiring protection if they won't protect you? _*hiss*_" he asked morosely.

"We're looking for someone," I said. "A client of yours."

"_*hiss*_ Not mine," he hastily corrected. "I'm not Fade. _*hiss*_ I just work for him. Sort of. _*hiss*_"

"I knew it," I shook my head. **(2)**

Garrus walked over to him slowly and knelt in front of him, staring him in the eye. "Well then maybe you'd like to tell us where to find him."

"_*hiss*_ Y-Yes," the volus stammered. "Of course. _*hiss*_ He's in the factory district. _*hiss*_ Works out of the old prefab foundry."

"I know the place," Garrus told me.

"_*hiss* _Uh... he's got a lot of mercs there. _*hiss*_ Blue Suns. _*hiss*_ Harkin thinks they're protecting him. _*hiss*_"

"Requesting data on subject Harkin, Shepard-Commander," Legion piped up.

"Former C-Sec officer; got fired shortly before I started hunting Saren for beating up suspects in custody, taking bribes and abusing drugs and alcohol." I turned to Garrus. "How the hell do you think Harkin wound up as Fade? Too lazy to get another legit job?"

"_*hiss*_ He used his knowledge of C-Sec and their systems to help a few people disappear _*hiss*_," the volus offered helpfully. _*hiss*_ After he found out how lucrative that service was, he made himself disappear and Fade was born. _*hiss*_ So to speak. _*hiss*_"

"Interesting," Garrus said. "But it changes nothing. We still need to find him before we can get to Sidonis."

"Well then, let's go pay Harkin a little visit," I grinned.

"We'll need to double back to the transit station," Garrus advised. "I can get us to him from there."

The volus shuffled nervously. "_*hiss*_ So I, uh... _*hiss* _I can go?"

"Sure," Garrus said a little too cheerfully. "But if we don't find him, we'll be back for you." He popped a fresh clip into his assault rifle and eyed the volus.

"_*hiss*_ Oh. Good. _*hiss*_" the volus replied dully before waddling off.

* * *

><p>Garrus still remembered his way around the Citadel. He guided us through shortcuts and side tunnels that most of the traffic didn't use, probably because they didn't know they existed. As a result, we got there in ten minutes flat.<p>

Then our luck ran out as we stumbled around a corner and almost bumped into a pair of Blue Sun guards, who were chatting with Harkin. He squinted at us for a second before his eyes widened. "Shepard?" he gasped.

"Howdy," I replied.

Then Harkin realized who was standing next to me. "Oh shit, it's you!"

That was the second time someone responded to Garrus in that manner. I shot him an amused look. "Again, Garrus? I'm sensing a theme here. Just how many people have you pissed off?"

"I lost track," Garrus shrugged.

While Garrus and I were chatting, Harkin was shoving the Blue Sun guards forwards. "Don't just stand there!" he snapped. "Stop them. Stop them!"

As they charged forward, Harkin lived down to his reputation and ran like hell. To my alarm, Garrus lunged forward. I tackled him before he could do something stupid. "Run all you want, Harkin," he howled, bucking underneath me like a goddamn bronco. "We'll find you!"

"Miranda! Jacob!" I shouted. To my relief, they didn't need any further instructions. They assumed command without a beat and directed the squad's response while I kept Garrus pinned down. The fight was over within a minute.

"Scout up ahead with the rest of the squad," I ordered. "We'll catch up." Again, I was relieved that that was all I had to say. I waited until they were gone before helping Garrus up. I didn't let him go, though. This new side he was showing was more than a little disturbing.

"This isn't happening again," I told him. I cut him off with a gesture when he opened his mouth. "I don't want to hear it. You either get it under control and act like a team leader, or we're leaving right now."

"You wouldn't do that," Garrus pointed out. "Leave, I mean."

"Maybe not," I shrugged. "But I would leave you behind."

Garrus looked at me for a long moment. "Fine. Just as long as we get Harkin."

"Deal," I said, letting go of him. "I guess I'm not surprised that he's gone completely bad."

"He always was a pain in the ass," Garrus replied. "But I'm in no mood for his games. We'll hunt him down and get him to talk. If he doesn't cooperate, I'll beat him within an _inch_ of his life."

"Garrus—"

"I'll behave, Shepard," Garrus interrupted me. "I want Sidonis dead, but I won't jeopardize another squad to do so."

I wasn't so sure about that, but Garrus seemed to have settled down—either that, or had decided to channel his desire for vengeance—so we rejoined the squad. They had started to scout around the foundry, which was cluttered with stacks and stacks of crates. Miranda wordlessly handed over a med-kit and a small stack of credits. I later found out that the latter had been lying in a trash can, of all places.

Just as I was stashing the credits, the door to a nearby shipping container retracted. The Blue Sun who'd opened it was eliminated quickly enough, but not before he tapped a command into his omni-tool. Just what that command was supposed to do was made quite clear when the pair of mechs booted up and got to their feet. Luckily, this wasn't our first time facing mechs. They'd scarcely raised their weapons when we blasted their armour plating to scraps and overloaded their circuits. A couple shots later and it was game over.

Unfortunately, there were several more mechs right around the corner. Aiming my omni-tool at the nearest pair, I picked one at random and melted its armour with a plasma blast. I was just about to raise my sniper rifle when Legion piped up. "Remote connection established," they announced. "Transmitting IFF shutdown subroutines."

Orange lightning writhed and crackled around the mech I'd attacked. The next thing I knew, it was turning its gun to fire at its former companion. The mech turned around and fired back. Then the hacked mech emitted an electrical pulse that knocked the other mech back a step. Then the other mech took a step forward and spat out a pulse of its own. They went back and forth for a minute before the hacked mech shook off whatever viruses or subroutines Legion had sent over. By then, both were so heavily damaged; it almost seemed like overkill to finish them off with concussive rounds.

Tali glared at Legion—well, I think she glared through her helmet—turned towards the next batch of mechs and whispered something to nodded and lobbed an inferno grenade, which exploded right on top of them. Then Tali aimed her omni-tool at the mech in the middle and hacked the sucker. The surrounding mechs must've realized that that mech wasn't on the same team anymore, because they suddenly turned around and opened fire. Probably not the brightest move, since the middle mech promptly exploded, knocking all of them to the ground. Kinda easy to deal with them after that.

"Blue Suns dead ahead," Jacob barked out, just before a pair of gunshots ricocheted off a nearby barrel.

I took a moment to look at the mechs, then turned my eye to Legion and Tali. I wasn't sure if they were using the most effective weapons in their arsenal, showing off their mad hacking skills or trying to compete with each other. Whatever the reason, I might as well make use of it. "Legion, Tali; take turns hacking the mechs and keeping them occupied with each other. Everyone else focus on the Blue Suns first." Since all good commanders lead by example, I cloaked, leaned out and fired a sniper round right through the shields and helmet of a hapless Blue Suns.

With eleven guns against two, it didn't take long before the Blue Suns were riddled with holes. Probably a good thing—I hadn't realized it at the time, but I may have underestimated the mechs.

You see, individually, a LOKI mech isn't much of a threat. Weak armour, minimal protective chassis, armed with nothing but a pistol and possessing absolutely no self-preservation skills whatsoever. They just plodded forward, chirping inane little programmed phrases and shooting away. Not to mention that they could be hacked. Problem was, no one in their right mind would just use one or two mechs. Nosirree, they'd deploy them in waves of twos and threes, relentlessly marching forward. Almost like husks—not as scary, but still potentially lethal. Plus, if you weren't careful, they'd blithely march around any cover you were hiding behind, flank you and turn your body into Swiss cheese. So it was a good thing we finished the Blue Suns when we did. Then we could unleash silicon hell on the mechs.

Once I was certain that the area was clear of bad guys, I started to search for loot. While I hacked open a safe, lifted some more medi-gel and bypassed a lock to access a removable and expensive circuit board, the rest of the squad was doing some preliminary scouting of the next room in the foundry.

"It's about time," Garrus hissed when I caught up with them. "Harkin's in here somewhere. I can smell him."

Gee, you'd think the scum of the galaxy could spare a minute to shower every once in a while. Out loud, I said "Team One, move out. Team Two, find cover and watch our six."

As if on cue, five Blue Suns came around the corner. They moved like a patrol that was investigating a disturbance. Well, they did until a trio of EMPs and a blinding storm of plasma and biotics hammered into them. Three of them went down immediately. Zaeed took another one out with a concussive round. The last one ducked behind a crate, frantically hollering for backup.

A bunch of overhead cranes began moving almost immediately. Two of them dropped off a pair of LOKI mechs each. Another one dropped a large shipping container, which opened to reveal several LOKI mechs. Big surprise, I know.

"Team Two: focus on the mechs coming out of the shipping container," Garrus ordered over the squad comm frequency.

Good call, I decided. They had a better angle. And if they could keep them occupied, Team One could focus on the others. "Team One, attack your designated targets," I said, using my HUD to designate targets. "Weapons free, people."

Miranda, Samara and Thane stripped the armour off their assigned mechs like a grunt opening rations. One of them quickly went berserk on its comrades, courtesy of Legion and their hacking skills. We took advantage of the distraction to pick off mechs one by one.

By that point, Team Two had eliminated their mechs as well. They hadn't escaped unscathed, as I noted several of them were in the middle of regenerating their shields. But we'd defeated the latest batch of—no, that wasn't quite true. There was still one more Blue Sun, determined to huddle behind a crate. I motioned for the squad to slowly advance, hoping to flank him and put him out of his misery. Unfortunately, someone got bored with that plan about halfway through.

"TITS!"

The merc popped up and looked around like a groundhog. We blew him away before he had a chance to check his shadow. Then we turned and looked at Jack.

"What?" she demanded. "I was getting bored. And it worked, didn't it? You got a fucking problem with that?"

"I don't," Garrus murmured. "It's a little unorthodox, but I can't argue with the results."

"Damn straight," Jack declared.

"Excuse me."

Jack whirled around, a belligerent "What?" clearly forming on her lips. Then her lips curled into a feral grin as she saw the source of the rather polite question: another pair of LOKI mechs. The trio of Blue Sun mercs behind them halted, looked at each other in dismay and cursed. One even did a face palm.

Can't blame them. We scattered for cover before they'd gotten off more than a couple shots. Legion promptly hacked one of the mechs as soon as I'd melted its armour. "I was going to get that one," Tali protested before switching targets to the other mech, whose armour had been rendered useless by Mordin. The two mechs wheeled around and opened fire on the Blue Suns, just as a well-placed EMP from Garrus shorted out their shields. Between our guns and those of our temporary allies, the mercs didn't last long.

Looking ahead, I saw another wave of Blue Suns getting set up. "Grunt," I said. He looked over at me and I told him what I wanted him to do. A feral grin spread over his face. With a mighty roar, he surged forward, trampling over the mechs before they rebooted their IFF protocols. That charge took him into the next room, where the Blue Suns weren't ready to meet any hostiles. With several startled shouts, they scrambled for cover, reacting to his presence instead of proactively engaging themselves. That gave us the advantage, which we seized without hesitation. Flashes of sparks lit up as random Blue Suns suddenly found themselves without shields. If they were lucky, they were soon shot or lit up. If they were unlucky, they soared up into the air, arms flailing madly.

I was getting a bit satisfied with how well things were going, so I guess it's my fault that a set of passing cranes moved by overhead, dropping off several LOKI mechs to crash the party. "Zaeed!" I yelled.

"On it!" he shouted out, tossing another inferno grenade. It exploded at the feet of two of the mechs. Apparently, that provided enough of a window for Legion and Tali to hack them. I decided to snipe a hapless merc instead of pointing out that they were doing a pretty good job of teaming up. The last thing I wanted was for Tali to come to her senses.

Legion saw what I was doing, as they pulled out their own sniper rifle. A Widow like mine—guess synthetic arms could withstand the recoil as well. They quickly demonstrated that their crack shooting on the derelict Reaper wasn't an accident, taking two of the floating mercs out in a heartbeat. The rest of them were hit with biotic blasts or concussive rounds a second later, sending them hurtling into the walls with bone-crushing force. Then we could concentrate our fire on the mechs, all of whom were heavily damaged by that point. Needless to say, it didn't take long for us to mop up.

Once the last mech collapsed, we had a chance to assess our surroundings. It didn't take long to realize that this room was a dead-end. So either Harkin had pulled a Houdini or there was some kind of hidden door or something. Which meant we had to take a closer look. "Found it!" Miranda said after a minute.

"Me too!" I called back.

"You found another bridge control?"

"Bridge control?"

"What were you talking about?"

"I found some power cells. And medi-gel. And iridium. And a laptop that's just begging to be hacked."

Everyone looked at me while I scooped up the goodies. I don't know why. I really don't. Once I indicated I was done, Miranda activated the bridge controls. The wall in front of us flipped down and extended, forming a bridge to another crate-filled room.

"We're getting close," Garrus said as we crossed the bridge.

Two Blue Suns popped out of cover and opened fire. "Time to die," one of them yelled. Yes, he really did say that. I looked at Garrus. "'Getting close,' huh? I never would've figured that out. You must've been a detective or something."

"Funny," Garrus replied, sending an EMP at the nearest merc. Following suit, I set that guy on fire. Kasumi and Mordin did the same thing. Eventually, the mercs stopped twitching.

Then we waited. I glimpsed a Blue Sun skulking around after a minute and fired my sniper rifle. He collapsed like a puppet that'd had his strings cut.

Then we waited. Two more mercs came. Two more mercs went down.

Then we waited. Three more mercs came. One of them was a bigwig, judging from the armour plating he was packing along with a very robust shield package.

"You know," Miranda frowned as she zapped one of them, "they aren't being very aggressive."

"We have been blowing through them like they weren't even there," I pointed out slowly. "On the other hand, their tactics aren't typical of someone trying to engage the enemy. It's more like they're...

"Trying to lure us into a trap," we finished at the same time.

We looked at each other for a moment. "You're going to spring the trap, aren't you?" she sighed.

"Yep," I confirmed, silencing the last vestige of my common sense before it could scream at me. "Preferably after we take out as many mercs as possible."

"Thank goodness for small miracles," she muttered.

With that course of action figured out, we turned our attention back to the battlefield. The two junior mercs had been taken out, leaving the bigwig hiding behind a crate. Clearly he didn't relish the odds.

He couldn't resist the bait I provided when I stood up, however. No doubt he was hoping to get off a shot and drop back down behind his cover before we could respond. Unfortunately for him, we were faster. Three EMPs made short work of his shields and a barrage of plasma and biotics melted his armour useless.

The Blue Sun bigwig got a few reinforcements in the form of another pair of mercs. I sniped one of them, but the other one made it to the crate and ducked down before anyone else could finish him off. "Cover fire," I hissed. While the squad obliged, I sent another ball of plasma arcing through the air. It flew over the crate, dropped down and set both of the mercs on fire. They popped up, flailing like mad, before succumbing to the flames.

Then we waited. Nobody came, so I moved forward to scoop up a few thermal clips. "Heavy mech overhead," Garrus yelled as I restocked.

I looked up. Sure enough, an overhead crane was dropping off a large mech. It booted up, rose out of the fetal position and turned towards me. I promptly turned around and made a dignified tactical retreat. Some might say I sprinted back towards the squad screaming like a little girl. But trust me, it was a dignified tactical retreat.

As I retreated, I heard multiple snaps and cracks as EMPs detonated around the YMIR mech, plus a lot of gunfire. Anything to damage its shields, because it sure didn't scare it off. I dove over a crate and into cover just before a stream of bullets spat out. Using my HUD, I pulled up my hardsuit's sensor readouts on the mech. Its shields had been seriously depleted. Interesting.

Taking a chance, I cloaked, stood up and peered through the scope on my sniper rifle. It was moving its head a bit, so I had to adjust my aim before firing. To my delight, that shot shut down its shields and made a nice dent in its armour. Ducking back down, I saw Thane, Mordin and Zaeed send all sorts of plasma and biotic goodness flying its way. Tali did her part to distract the big lug with Chikitta. The suicidal drone only lasted a moment before the YMIR blew it to pieces with a rocket. Not a smart move, since it bought us enough time to punch a hole right through the dent in its armour.

Legion considered the situation, tapped their omni-tool and generated a combat drone of their own to distract the YMIR. I decided not to ask whether they had given it a name as well, opting to order another barrage of EMPs instead. Three blue fields exploded over it, followed shortly by a pair of concussive rounds. I delivered the coup d'etat with my trusty sniper rifle. One thing I'll have to give to mechs—their habit of exploding makes headshots that much more satisfying.

We searched through the room, but there were no more bad guys—organic or synthetic—in sight. Nor were there any in the adjoining office. So we were free to swipe medi-gel, take apart random circuit boards for credits, liberate power cells, crack open a safe and grab some schematics for a sniper rifle upgrade. That last bit of loot made me and Garrus very happy indeed.

There was even found a blank ID lying around. I quickly snatched it up—never know when an alternate identity might be needed.

When I'd finished stuffing the ID in my pockets, I found out that Garrus had retracted the metal sheet covering the office window and was staring intently through it. I gave him a minute to try and melt the glass with his eyes before opening my mouth. "Much tension I sense in you, young Padawan." **(3) **

"Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear," Garrus replied tersely. "If so, he knows why we're here and I don't want him tipping Sidonis off."

Maybe. Or maybe he didn't know the specifics. Maybe he just knew that he didn't want to get beaten up or shot. I was about to say that when I glimpsed some movement. I immediately sidestepped away from the window and against the wall, pulling out my sniper rifle in one smooth motion. Garrus ducked underneath the window and grabbed his own sniper rifle. Everyone else followed our lead a moment later.

"Did you see something?" Garrus asked.

"I saw something," I shrugged.

"He's getting ready for us," Garrus growled.

"Probably," I admitted. "Doesn't mean you have to 'beat him within an inch of his life,' though."

"He's a real criminal now," Garrus reminded me. "Working for the Blue Suns. I should just shoot him on sight. But... I need him alive, so I won't do any permanent damage. Just enough to loosen his tongue."

"You don't need him hurt to get what you want," I reminded him. Someone had to. I thought Joker had been joking all those months ago when he said that Garrus seemed to have taken that stick out of his ass and was now beating people to death with it. Now I wasn't so sure. Seemed to me like he was reverting to the Garrus I'd glimpsed two years ago. The one thirsting for revenge.

"Don't worry," Garrus reassured me. "Harkin's a coward. Always has been. He'll talk long before I can really hurt him."

I'd find that more reassuring if there wasn't one other issue on my mind. "You still planning to kill Sidonis when we find him?"

"That's the plan," he replied coolly. "It'll be quick and painless. Unlike everyone he betrayed, he'll be spared the agony of a slow death. It's more than he deserves, but as long as he's dead, I'll be satisfied."

"Garrus," I said slowly, "do you really think killing Sidonis will make things right?"

"I know you don't like this, Shepard," Garrus acknowledged, "but I have to do this."

"Is there's no other way?" I pressed.

"Maybe. But _this _is personal. I'll pull the trigger and I'll live with the consequences. All I'm asking is that you help me find him."

Oh yeah. Definitely reverting. But there wasn't a lot more that I could think of to say at this point. "What do you think Harkin's got waiting for us in there?" I asked instead.

"Not sure," Garrus frowned. "Looks like another industrial complex. Lots of heavy machinery. Could be anything. Something's in there... probably more Blue Suns."

"If we're lucky, that's all that's in there," I said.

Garrus snorted. "Since when were we ever lucky? All I know is Harkin's trapped himself in a corner. He must have something in store for us."

"Then let's go find out," I said.

"Right behind you," Garrus nodded.

* * *

><p>"Shepard, I have patched into the warehouse scanners," EDI reported as we entered the room and found cover. "Some of the crates in the transport containers overhead are rigged to explode when dropped."<p>

"Good to know," I replied, tracking the path of the crates and comparing it to the locations of the mercs and LOKI mechs that were streaming into the room. Lifting my sniper rifle, I dislodged one of the crates. It fell on the mercs and promptly exploded. Legion copied me, but the crate they had selected was empty. It just landed on the mechs, knocked them over and fell apart. Zaeed had a bit more luck with the crate he picked, as the resulting explosion destroyed most of the prone mechs. Only one of them stood up. Unfortunately, it was promptly joined by another three LOKI mechs.

"Legion, Tali; you're up," I said. "Everyone else keep an eye out for any more mercs or mechs."

There was only one more merc as it turned out. Garrus patiently waited him out, double-tapping shots from his assault rifle whenever he had a clear line of sight. The mechs took turns firing shots or electrical pulses at each other, thanks to a constant stream of hacks from Legion and Tali. Seeing how much havoc they were causing, I turned to Tali.

"Don't suppose you could copy some of those hacking protocols to my omni-tool," I requested.

"Sure," Tali nodded. She tapped her omni-tool and sent over a program.

_**Insufficient storage capacity. Please make additional space available or insert another hard drive.** _

Tali tilted her head curiously, tapped her omni-tool again and sent another program.

_**Insufficient storage capacity. Please make additional space available or insert another hard drive.** _

She looked at me, shook her head and muttered something that I didn't make out, tapped her omni-tool again and sent another program.

_**Insufficient storage capacity. Please make additional space available or insert another hard drive.**_

Oh for crying out loud.

We did this a few more times before we finally succeeded. Granted, it was only a basic synthetic hacking protocol, but it was better than nothing. **(4)** Eager to hack a synthetic for the first time in years, I raised my omni-tool and transmitted the protocol at the latest trio of LOKI mechs.

One of them stopped, quivered and turned its gun on its comrades. They promptly spat out an electrical pulse at the hacked mech, who reciprocated almost immediately. The pulses knocked them all over. Two of them got up, only to be knocked back down when the prone mech exploded. A second later, another explosion rang out. The last mech stumbled to its feet... only to collapse when Miranda hit it with an EMP.

We did the same thing with the next five or six LOKI mechs, making short work of them. Though it probably helped when a rocket flew out of nowhere and accidentally blew them all to smithereens. Tracking the path of the rocket—and the curses—back to its source, I found a Blue Sun hiding around, cloaked and blew her head off.

"Wow, that's a shocker," Kasumi said.

It took me a split second to realize she wasn't talking about the merc. I followed her gaze and saw another trio of LOKI mechs coming towards us via the overhead cranes. Garrus growled as they were dropped off. "Harkin's gonna regret this."

The mechs were quickly eliminated as well, but not before they tried a more circuitous approach behind several crates that blocked our line of sight. Either they were learning or... I quickly scooted forward and looked ahead.

Sure enough, there was another Blue Sun. One of the senior mercs, judging from his shields and armour. Probably giving remote commands to any mechs who were dropped off.

Crouching down behind a conveniently located crate, I transmitted the telemetry to the squad. Using my sensors to guide their attacks, they launched several EMPs, followed by a lot of plasma and a smattering of biotics. Someone yanked him skyward once his shields and armour were stripped away. We saw him rise, arms waving madly, before a concussive round sent him soaring through the air and out of sight.

"I'm gonna cloak and look around," I told the squad. "Stay frosty."

I came back a few minutes later. "We'll have to go up and over a couple platforms up ahead, then up several more platforms to a corner office on the upper levels at the far end. No bad guys that I could see, but my guess is that probably be deployed once we're on the move."

"Anything else?" Garrus pressed.

"I found a datapad lying around and swiped the credits from the account it contained."

Garrus shook his head. "Let's get going."

It went pretty well at first. Plenty of thermal clips lying around to replenish our stocks. No bad guys getting the drop on us. Quite peaceful, actually.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when the back of my neck started tingling. Looking around, I saw another pair of overhead cranes moving towards us. There was something odd about their contents. They didn't look like crates. Or LOKI mechs.

"Aw, crap," Garrus groaned.

Hey, that was _my_ line!

"Oh, joy," Miranda deadpanned. "More heavy mechs."

Aw, crap indeed.

"I'm not running from you, Shepard!" Harkin yelled out over the loudspeaker as we scampered for cover.

"Everyone focus on this mech," I yelled, selecting it with my HUD. "Weapons free!"

A barrage of EMPs and gunfire exploded over the mech. It didn't take long before its shields were toast. Unfortunately, that success came at a price—an explosion from one of the rockets lifted Tali off her feet and sent her flying over some crates. Jack tried to check up on her, only to come under heavy fire herself. She only managed to fire off a few shots in defiance before collapsing to the ground, hand pressed tightly to her side.

Biting back a curse, I fired off a plasma blast at a plate of armour protecting the YMIR's neck. Zaeed and Thane quickly followed, with Miranda right on their heels. Mordin sent a plasma burst of his own once he checked up on Jack—or, more accurately, was waved off with a blistering string of profanity—which bored a nice neat hole through the heavy mech. "Legion," I hollered. "Hit it!"

Legion promptly hacked the mech. It turned on the other YMIR and opened fire.

About ten seconds later, 'our' mech exploded. The remaining mech, still with its chassis, armour plating and most of its shields intact, turned towards us and opened fire.

"So much for that," I sighed.

"Same plan as before," Jacob suggested.

"With fewer casualties," I nodded.

Miranda, Garrus and Kasumi immediately fired off their EMPs. We ducked and waited as the YMIR returned fire. Then there was a pause—which meant the big lug was loading up a rocket. By then, the three of them were ready with another EMP, so they launched them before the YMIR could fire the rocket. Glancing at my HUD, I was relieved to see those EMPs blew out its shield generator, with the bonus of damaging its armour. That would make things a bit easier.

It took several more tense minutes, which seemed like hours, but we finally dealt enough damage to the last YMIR. "Alert," it blurted out just before exploding. We all ducked, not wanting anything to do with an explosion that rivalled a tactical nuke. Once the heat and glare died down, we ran over to Jack and Tali. Thankfully, they were both all right, although Jack was sporting several burns and Tali had a noticeable limp.

While Garrus gave some medi-gel to Tali—who did not offer any loud or profane objections—I activated my cloak and looked around. Two LOKI mechs outside the upper level office I'd spotted earlier, guarding one very nervous Harkin. I doubled back to report my findings and issue my orders.

Team One blew through the LOKI mechs within a minute and stormed the office. Harkin quickly backed up, slapping a console as he passed it. A set of kinetic barriers hummed to life, bisecting the office and blocking our path.

"You were close," Harkin sneered, turning towards the door at the other end of the office, "but not close eno—"

Garrus chose that moment to step through the door. He drove the butt of his assault rifle into Harkin's nose—which he didn't appreciate, judging from the cry that escaped his lips. Completely unsympathetic to his plight, Garrus grabbed Harkin by the collar, dragged him back into the office and slammed him against the wall.

"So, Fade..." Garrus hissed. "Couldn't make yourself disappear, huh?"

"Come on, Garrus, we can work this out," Harkin smiled nervously. "Whaddya need?"

Garrus let him go and backed off a step. "I'm looking for someone."

Harkin stretched some muscles in his neck and gave him a satisfied smirk. "Well, I guess we both have something the other one wants."

Garrus surged back towards him and lifted his assault rifle. Harkin instinctively covered his nose. He should have covered his family jewels.

As Harkin collapsed to his knees, the rest of Team Two shuffled in. Mordin walked over to the console and deactivated the barrier. "We're not here to ask favours, Harkin," I said helpfully.

Harkin stumbled back to his feet. "You don't say," he wheezed.

"You helped a friend of mine disappear," Garrus told him. "I need to find him."

"I might need a little more information than that," Harkin replied sarcastically.

"His name was Sidonis. Turian, came from the—"

Apparently that was enough information. "I know who he is and I'm not telling you squat," Harkin snapped.

"Harkin, this doesn't have to be hard," I piped up.

"Screw you. I don't give out client information. It's bad for business."

Well wonders never cease. Harkin had a sense of professional ethics.

Garrus kneed him in the gut. "You know what else is bad for business?" he said as Harkin dropped to the ground again. "A broken neck." To emphasize his point, Garrus placed a boot firmly on Harkin's neck.

Harkin's eyes widened. "All right! All right! Get off me!" he cried out.

Garrus didn't show any signs of letting up though. I had to actually tap him on the shoulder before he remembered to lift his foot. Harkin stayed on the ground, panting away. "Terminus really changed you, huh, Garrus?" he said once he'd caught his breath.

"No, but Sidonis... opened my eyes. Now arrange a meeting."

Harkin got to his feet. He looked at a nearby comm terminal and hesitated, but quickly scampered over when Garrus made an impatient gesture. We waited while Harkin set up the comm link.

"_Fade?"_

Garrus tensed up immediately when the voice came over the speakers.

"Yeah, it's me," Harkin confirmed. "There's a chance your identity may be compromised."

"_What the... you said I was safe!"_

The back of my neck started tingling again. Probably because Garrus had 'borrowed' Jack's pistol and was checking its thermal clip.

"That's why I'm calling," Harkin said soothingly. "I'm sending an agent to discuss the details. He'll meet you at the Orbital Lounge. Noon okay with you?"

_"Yeah, yeah. That's fine. Tell him he'd better be on time."_

"Don't worry," Harkin reassured him. "He'll be there." After turning off the terminal, he turned and glared at us. "Got that?"

"Got it," I confirmed.

"Good. So, if our business is done, I'll be going—"

Garrus reached out and grabbed Harkin by the collar again. "I don't think so," he snarled, pulling the ex-cop towards him. "You're a criminal now, Harkin."

"So what... you're just gonna kill me?" Harkin sputtered. "That's not your style, Garrus."

...

Garrus let him sweat for a few seconds. "Kill you?" he said at last. "No." He aimed his pistol at Harkin's leg. "But I don't mind slowing you down a little—"

"Garrus," I snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling it up. It wouldn't be the first time I'd prevented a squad mate from shooting someone. It was the first time that that squad mate was already pulling the trigger though. Garrus would have actually shot him if I hadn't intervened. This wasn't good.

"You don't need to shoot him," I told him. "He won't be able to hide from C-Sec now."

He yanked his arm out of my grip and stared at Harkin. "I guess it's your lucky day," he finally said, returning the pistol to Jack.

"Yeah," Harkin wiped some sweat off his brow. "I hope we can do this again real soon."

Garrus started to turn away, then whipped back and gave him a head-butt. Harkin collapsed to the ground for the third time, hands covering his nose in a vain attempt to stem the tide of blood. "I didn't shoot him," Garrus said.

"I didn't say anything." I replied. I used my omni-tool to send a message to Bailey, telling him where he could finally find the elusive Fade. Zaeed tied the cop-turned-criminal up with some restraints he happened to have—tricks of the bounty hunting trade, I guess. "Come on, let's move," I ordered.

"Sidonis better be there," Garrus said as we left the office. "Or I'm coming back to finish the job."

* * *

><p>The squad split up into teams to cover the exits of the Orbital Lounge while I went with Garrus. Officially, it was because somebody had to drive him to a place where he could shoot Sidonis. Unofficially, it was because I wanted to have one last chat with him.<p>

"Harkin's a bloody menace," Garrus hissed as I landed the skycar at a docking port one floor above the Lounge. "We shouldn't have just let him go."

"We didn't," I reminded him. "I called it in, remember? He's C-Sec's problem now."

"He deserves to be punished," Garrus insisted.

I eyed him uneasily. "I'm getting a little worried about you, Garrus," I said. "You were pretty hard on Harkin. I mean, I know what you said, but I didn't think you'd actually do it"

Garrus looked out the window. "What do you want from me, Shepard?" he asked after a moment. "What would you do if somebody betrayed you?"

A certain soft-spoken, sanctimonious asshole came to mind. I thought about what I'd do if I ever ran into Kaidan again. "I'm not sure," I admitted. Hard choice between punching his lights out and shining a strobe light in his eyes until he got another migraine. "But I wouldn't let it change me like that."

"I would've said the same thing before it happened to me," Garrus replied.

"It's not too late," I offered. "You don't have to go through with this."

"Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if _I_ don't?" Garrus asked bitterly. "Nobody else knows what he's done. Nobody else _cares_. I don't see any other options."

"This is vengeance you're talking about here. If you want justice, let me talk to him," I suggested.

Garrus's eyes narrowed. "Talk all you want, but it won't change my mind. I don't care what his reasons were, he screwed us... he deserves to die."

"Yes, he screwed you over," I conceded. "He screwed a lot of guys over. He deserves to be punished. But does he deserve to die? There are other ways to punish him, you know."

"No punishment could make up for all the lives he's ruined," Garrus growled. "How many families did he tear apart with his betrayal? How many mercs were left free to prey on the weak and helpless?"

"How many families did he help before he betrayed you?" I rebutted. "How many lives did he save?"

"Are you trying to justify what he did?" Garrus snapped.

"I'm trying to say that it might not be as simple as you think," I replied. "Look, I know what it's like to have people under your command die. People who looked up to you. People who depended on you. I know it hurts. But it doesn't mean you have to play judge, jury and executioner."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not you," Garrus replied quickly.

I looked at him with more than a little worry. "This isn't you either," I told him at last.

"Really?" Garrus challenged. "I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this..." He broke off, laughing almost hysterically to himself before continuing. "Why should he go on living while ten good men lie in unmarked graves?"

He took a breath to calm himself. "I'm sorry, Shepard. Words aren't going to solve this problem."

Well, crap. Guess my silver tongue got a bit rusty.

"I need to set up," Garrus said, looking around. He pointed a talon at a section of railing next to a support column. "I can get a clear shot from there."

He was right. Judging by the angle, he had a clear line of sight to a target that would be only thirty or forty metres away, with no wind to deflect his shot. "What do you need me to do?" I sighed.

Garrus kept it simple. "Keep him talking and don't get in my way. I'll let you know when he's in my sights."

I looked at him for a moment, then turned away. Undeterred by my uneasiness, Garrus continued. "Give me a signal so I know you're ready and I'll take the shot."

I just sat there.

"You'd better go. He'll be here soon."

I slowly got out of the skycar and headed down a nearby set of stairs to the Orbital Lounge. _"Shepard?"_ I heard Garrus call out over the comm. _"Do you read me?"_

"Loud and clear," I replied, looking around. There were a smattering of humans... and one turian.

"_All right,"_ Garrus said. _"That's him sitting down on the bench. Wave him over and keep him talking."_

I did as Garrus requested and watched as Sidonis got up and walked over. He seemed to be walking slowly, but he didn't have a limp or injury that I could tell. As he got closer, I got a good look in his eyes. They seemed... blank. Bleak. Empty.

Interesting.

"Let's get this over with," he said dully.

"_You're in my shot,"_ Garrus told me. _"Move to the side."_

I took a deep breath as an idea came to me. A stupid one—really, _really _stupid. So stupid, in fact, that it just might work. "Listen, Sidonis," I said. "I'm here to help you."

A flash of alarm flashed across Sidonis's face, the first sign of life I'd seen so far. "Don't ever say that name aloud," he hissed, looking around nervously. "Didn't Fade give you my alias?"

"Fade's out of the picture," I replied. "Listen, I'm a friend of Garrus. He wants you dead, but I'm hoping that's not necessary."

"Garrus?" Sidonis gasped. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"_Damn it, Shepard," _Garrus cursed me. _"If he moves, I'm taking the shot!"_

That was the stupid part. If I zigged when I should have zagged, Garrus might think he had a chance to take Sidonis out. And if he wasn't quick enough, it could be my head that intercepted the bullet instead.

Somehow, what I was thinking translated itself to my face, because Sidonis suddenly grew pale. I had no idea turians could do that until now. "You're not kidding, are you?" he whispered. "Screw this, I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus I had my own problems—"

I reached out and grabbed his arm as he started to walk away. "Don't move."

"Get off me!" he cried, shaking me off.

"I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head."

Sidonis's head drooped. "Fuck."

"So what happened?" I asked him.

"Look... I didn't want to do it... I didn't have a choice."

Oh yeah. Great start.

"_Everyone has a choice," _Garrus growled over the comm.

"They got to me," Sidonis continued. "Said they'd kill me if I didn't help. What was I supposed to do?"

"_Let me take the shot, Shepard," _Garrus urged. _"He's a damn coward."_

"You tell me," I demanded, ignoring Garrus. "What could you have done? Because from what little you've told me, it sounds like you took the easy way out."

"Yeah, I did. You know why? Because I was a goddamn coward who just wanted to save his own pathetic..." Sidonis broke off and walked over to a nearby row of chairs. I barely reacted in time to move in front of him again before Garrus pulled the trigger. Sidonis leaned against the back of the chairs and looked at the floor.

"I know what I did. I could've talked to Garrus. We could've figured something out. But I took the easy way out and stabbed my buddies in the back. They all died because of me and now I have to live with it. Every night, I wake up... sick... and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me... accusing me... Every day I walk around and think that everyone I'm passing has a face belonging to one of the ten people I betrayed.

"I'm already a dead man. I can't get more than an hour's sleep. Food has no taste. Some days... I just want it to be over."

"_Just give me the chance."_

"Let it go, Garrus," I said out loud. "Listen to him. He's already paying for his crime."

"_He hasn't paid enough. He still has his _life_!" _

"Does he?" I asked. "Look at him, Garrus. He's not alive... there's nothing left to kill."

"_My men... they deserved better than..." _Maybe it was my imagination, but it sounded like Garrus was starting to waver.

"Tell Garrus..." Sidonis started before breaking off. His shoulders sagged. "I guess there's nothing I can say to make it right..."

...

...

...

"_Just... go," _Garrus said at last. _"Tell him to go."_

"He's giving you a second chance, Sidonis," I told him. "Don't waste it."

Sidonis looked at me sharply, then straightened up and nodded. "I'll try, Garrus," he said out loud, raising his voice so it could be picked up by the comm. "I'll make it up to you. I swear, by the spirits, I'll make it up to you. Somehow.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For talking to him."

* * *

><p>Garrus was waiting for me by the skycar when I returned. He had collapsed his sniper rifle, but hadn't holstered it yet. Instead, he was holding it in his hands and staring at it.<p>

"I know it didn't go the way you planned," I said after a moment, "but I think it's for the best."

"I'm not so sure..." Garrus whispered.

"Give it time."

"Yeah," Garrus shrugged. "Maybe that'll be enough." He took another look at his sniper rifle before slotting it into place on his back. "I just... I want to know I did the right thing. Not just for me—for my men. They deserve to be avenged."

"I know," I nodded. "That's how you got this far. But then..."

"But then I let him go," Garrus finished. "I know. I wanted to shoot him. He was the bad guy, after all. I actually had a clear shot at one point, you know, despite your efforts. But when Sidonis was in my sights... I just couldn't do it. I couldn't pull the trigger."

"The lines between good and bad get awfully fuzzy when we're looking at people we know," I commiserated.

"Yeah," Garrus agreed. "I could tell there was still good in him. Otherwise, he never would have felt so guilty. It was so much simpler when I thought he was bad to the core, though. Guess it's easier to see the galaxy in black and white. Grey... I don't know what to do with grey."

"Sometimes you gotta go with your instincts," I suggested.

He looked at me wryly. "My instincts are what got me into this mess."

"Oh," I winced. "Right. Look, don't be too hard on yourself, okay? That's what really got you into this mess."

"Thanks, Shepard," Garrus nodded. "For everything."

"You're welcome."

"Let's get going," Garrus said, heading for the skycar. "I need some distance from this place."

"I hear that."

We got into the car and flew off. As we zipped through the traffic, I loaded up an audio file into the car's systems and hit the play button.

"_I can't see where you're comin' from,  
>But I know just what you're runnin' from.<br>And what matters ain't the who's baddest but the  
>Ones who stop you falling from your ladder.<em>

_"When you feel like you're feeling now_  
><em>And doin' things just to please your crowd.<em>  
><em>When I love you like the way I love you<em>  
><em>And I suffer but I ain't gonna cut you 'cuz<em>

_"This ain't no place for no hero._  
><em>This ain't no place for no better man.<em>  
><em>This ain't no place for no hero<em>  
><em>To call home." <em>**(5) **

* * *

><p>Garrus later sent me a message asking to see me whenever I had a moment. I hurried on over to see how he was doing. And to see if he was actually there—if not, he might have decided to go all 'eye for an eye' again. Thankfully he was in the Main Battery room, running yet another round of calibrations—seriously, how many of those things can you possibly do?<p>

"Garrus?" I said. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I wanted to thank you again for your help with Sidonis. Whatever happens with the Collectors or the Reapers or whoever else comes after us, I know you'll get the job done."

I raised an eyebrow at that last one. "You actually think we'll find something worse than Collectors or Reapers?"

"I like to expect the worst," he shrugged. "There's a small chance I'll be pleasantly surprised."

Well, I was pleasantly surprised to hear the tone of his voice. Goodbye rage and anger; hello, calm and collected. "I couldn't do this without you, Garrus," I said honestly.

"Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course."

And the snarky humour was back, too. Better and better.

"Ah, so that's why I keep you around," I smirked. "I knew there was a reason I headhunted you from C-Sec."

"If I remember correctly, you did no such thing," Garrus replied. "I asked to leave C-Sec and come with you."

"True," I conceded. "Do you ever regret leaving the turian military? Or C-Sec? Sounds like some people appreciated all your hard work, even if you caused a lot of grief along the way."

"Not for a minute," Garrus shook his head. "When it comes down to it, Shepard, I don't think I'm a very good turian. When a good turian hears a bad order, he follows it. He might complain, but he knows his place. I just don't see the point in staying quiet and polite. Not when the galaxy is at stake. Heavy stuff, I know, but that's the way I see it."

"Can't argue with that," I replied. "But enough doom and gloom. Interested in something a bit happier?"

"What do you have in mind?"

In response, I showed Garrus an e-mail I'd gotten a week or so after recruiting him:

_From: Dr. Chloe Michel_

_Dear Commander Shepard,_

_I was relieved to hear you were alive. I was devastated to hear of the destruction of the Normandy, and those people who didn't make it off in time. After you went missing and were presumed dead, I feared I'd never see you or Garrus ever again. You and he did so much to help clean up the Wards when you were hunting for Saren. The galaxy needs more people like you, and I'm glad that you're still here to protect those of us who've grown to depend upon both of you._

_Is Garrus with you again, by any chance? After being so happy to hear about your survival, I wondered if perhaps he might have ended up with you. I left a few messages on his public accounts, but you know how he is about checking his mail, and I don't think the comm address I had for him works anymore, because he hasn't returned any calls. Always so busy on his grand crusades, his great passions, that he focuses on them to the exclusion of anything or anyone else._

_Anyway, if you know where he might be, I would really love to hear from him. Or both of you could come by next time you're near the Citadel._

_Thanks!_

_-Dr. Chloe Michel_

"You up for another visit to the Citadel?" I asked.

"I suppose I can skip the next calibration," Garrus sighed.

"Really?" I gasped. "You feeling all right?"

"Very funny," Garrus muttered sourly.

"Maybe you should let Dr. Chakwas check you out. She is certified in cross-species medicine, after all."

"Don't quit your day job, Shepard."

* * *

><p>Dr. Michel was delighted to hear from me and quickly agreed to meet Garrus, Tali and I at the Dark Star Lounge after her clinic closed.<p>

"_According to C-Sec reports,"_ EDI later told us, _"Harkin was taken into custody and charges are pending."_

"That's the least that bastard deserves," Garrus grumbled.

"Somehow, I don't think Harkin's gonna get off that easy," I offered.

"I hope so," Garrus growled.

Tali and I exchanged a glance as we went up the stairs to Level 28, where the Dark Star Lounge was located. Thankfully, Garrus quickly shook off the remnants of the vengeance that had been gnawing away at him for who knows how long.

"Hey Tali," he said casually, "you ever miss those talks we had on the elevators?"

"No," Tali replied, a bit more curtly than I would have expected. Then again, none of us really enjoyed our time on the elevator. Especially when the entire seven-man squad was crammed in.

"Come on," Garrus coaxed, "remember how we'd all ask you about life on the Flotilla? It was an opportunity to share!"

"This conversation is over," Tali told him.

Garrus didn't take the hint. Apparently, he'd decided to trade one suicidal obsession for another. "Tell me again about your immune system."

Bad move, considering how he'd spent one elevator ride pestering Tali on that very subject. "I have a shotgun," Tali reminded him sweetly.

Garrus took a step away from her. "Uh... maybe we'll talk later."

Tali and I smirked. Well, I did. I could never tell with her.

Garrus didn't say another word until we entered the Dark Star Lounge. It didn't take long before we saw Dr. Michel, who waved us over. "Commander, Garrus; it's good to see you again," she greeted us warmly. She eyed Tali curiously. "Didn't I treat you a while ago?"

"I'm impressed," Tali told her. "Most humans don't remember quarians. My name is Tali. Tali'Zorah vas Neema. You treated me when I was injured two years ago and—"

"And helped you get in touch with the Shadow Broker," Dr. Michel finished. "Of course. You had me worried there—I'd never treated a quarian before and I knew how weak your immune systems were. I was afraid you'd catch an infection."

"So was I," Tali nodded. "But I was lucky—I didn't get a fever or anything."

"I'm glad to hear that," Dr. Michel said. "Please, sit down."

We all grabbed a seat. Dr. Michel gasped a second later. "Garrus! What happened to you?"

I guess she couldn't see Garrus's scars from her earlier angle. He opened his mouth to explain. "Well, you see—"

"He wouldn't listen," I interrupted.

Everyone turned towards me with looks ranging from confusion (Garrus) to curiosity (Dr. Michel) to who-knows-what (Tali).

"He wanted to see what it was like to shave," I explained, straight face firmly in place. "I offered to show him. Even bought a spare razor from a kiosk on Illium—geez, that cost an arm and a leg. But he declined. Insisted that the extranet was just fine, thank you very much. Swore that he'd found a site that had never let him down."

At this point, Garrus was starting to sputter. Tali was positively quivering in her effort to keep her laughter contained.

"Next thing we know; he's stumbling into the infirmary, blood's pouring down his face. Must've lost a fair bit of blood, since he was totally light-headed and mumbling about how 'they' lied, whoever 'they' were. Kept mumbling about launching a formal investigation or inquiry or something. Probably didn't help that he tried shaving with a thresher maw fang. I _knew _Zaeed was a bad influence on him, what with all those tall tales he kept telling..."

Tali couldn't keep it in any longer. It started with a bit of shaking and chortling, then burst out into a loud peal of laughter. I caved about a nanosecond later, followed a minute later by Dr. Michel.

And then, Garrus joined us. Laughing until he had to clutch his stomach. Laughing until tears streamed down his face.

Laughing, no doubt, for the first time in over two years.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Given Mr. Vakarian's demonstrated skill with the sniper rifle, which equalled Shepard's prowess, and Shepard's oft-mentioned fondness for that weapon, that is high praise indeed.<em>

_(2): No doubt by the way Shepard insisted on quoting his supposed alias. _

_(3): A title from the fictional Star Wars universe given to Jedi apprentices. Shepard is clearly not using this term literally, as neither he nor Garrus displayed any biotic talents that might have been similar to the psychic phenomenon in Star Wars known as the Force. It is worth noting, however, that this is perhaps the most explicit admission and indication of the mentor-trainee relationship between Shepard and Garrus. _

_(4): Shepard neglects to mention that his omni-tool was filled with various programs and files, including scanning software, plasma generation and regulation programmes, numerous subroutines to bypass electronic locks and audio files spanning the last two centuries. _

_(5): 'Short Change Hero,' released by The Heavy in 2009._


	29. Personnel Report: Thane

_Editorial Note: This personnel report focuses on Shepard's interactions with Thane Krios and his efforts to help him achieve some measure of peace before it was too late. _

**Personnel Report—Thane Krios**

It's funny that 'Thane Krios' is a drell name, considering the number of times both names come up in Earth names and terminology. For example, did you know that 'Krios' is the Greek word for the constellation Aries? Or that it's (modern) Greek for male sheep or battering ram? Or how 'bout the fact that he's one of the Titans in Greek mythology? I didn't. I also didn't know that 'Thane' is an old Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon term for a high-ranking nobleman or retainer.

'Thane' is also very close to Thanatos, the Greek god of death. Try not to read too much into the fact that I actually knew _that _tidbit.

It's also worth noting that several philosophers came from (ancient) Greece. From Socrates to Plato, Aristotle to Pythagoras; these giants apparently had an enormous influence on human philosophy. I say apparently because I'm fairly certain I slept through that class.

But I digress: my point is that the themes of death and philosophy perfectly encapsulated a certain drell of my acquaintance. And I never would have discovered that were it not for a conversation I had during one of my habitual rounds.

"If you don't mind my saying, you don't really seem like an assassin," I started.

Thane offered a rare smile, one that mixed both politeness and understanding. "You've spent too much time fighting thugs who think custom-painted armour makes them professionals."

*cough*mercs*cough*

"The hanar trained my body for this role since I was six years old."

What the—"You've been killing since you were six?" I sputtered.

"Of course not," Thane replied. "I didn't make my first kill until I was 12."

Eep.

"They were training me. I was not to be used and thrown away. I was an investment."

"You were a child," I frowned, "not an investment!"

Thane raised a hand to stop me before I could go any further. "I've given you the wrong idea. They valued me. Yes, as a resource. But also as a person. They... regretted their need for me."

"I don't know which is harder to swallow," I admitted, "the fact that you were trained since childhood to kill or the fact that it was the hanar who trained you. Excessively polite Prothean worshippers don't seem like the type who'd train assassins."

No sooner had I finished did it occur to me that zealots were _exactly _the sort of people who'd train assassins. Religious whack jobs could justify anything if they felt it was in the name of their faith.

"Every species trains assassins," Thane shrugged. "The hanar are only unusual in that they need other species to do the killing for them. They have a strong grip and natural toxins—but have you ever seen one move quickly outside of water? Or fire a gun?"

No and no. "Why did your parents agree to this?" I wondered.

"The agreement was made under the Compact. It was an honour for our family."

"'The Compact?'"

"We live on the hanar homeworld because they rescued us—some of us—from extinction," Thane explained. "We owe them our lives. That is the Compact."

My sense of curiosity was tingling. "Why was your race going extinct?"

"Overpopulation," Thane replied. "That must sound trite to you. Humans developed mass effect drive before the problem became acute."

That was a matter of opinion, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut for once. I couldn't recall the details on how problematic human overpopulation had become, after all.

"Our homeworld, Rakhana, had few resources. We hadn't even developed fusion power when the soil began to fail from overuse and pollution. The hanar found us a century ago. They sent hundreds of ships. Evacuated thousands of us. Billions more had to be left behind."

"What's the state of Rakhana now?"

"Do you read your philosophers? A man named Thomas Hobbes?" When I gave him a blank look, Thane elaborated. "'When all the world is overcharged with inhabitants, then the last remedy of all is war, which provideth for every man, by victory or death.' As Rakhana died around them, my people slaughtered each other for mouthfuls of water and crumbs of food." **(1)**

Boy, that was depressing and predictable. Predictably depressing. Or should that be depressingly predict—"What exactly are the terms of the Compact?" I asked, pulling my mind out of the spiral it had created.

"There are many things the hanar can't do, even with mechanical aid. They ask drell to assist them."

"Can drell refuse to help them?"

"They can, but few do," Thane replied. "We owe our existence to the hanar. We are proud to repay the debt."

While it might be a slippery slope, it sounded like the hanar weren't taking advantage of that debt to turn the drell into slaves. Besides, I wasn't exactly surprised to hear that the hanar needed help. "Makes sense," I said. "The hanar I've seen mostly float around. It doesn't look like they can do a heck of a lot on their own."

"Out here, perhaps," Thane conceded. "But if you could see them in the Encompassing—the oceans of Kahje—you would see them differently."

"Oh?" I asked.

Thane's eyes widened slightly. "A stream of sliver in the dark," he uttered quickly. "Looping, diving. So fast the eye can't follow. Laughter like the squeals of a child vibrate the water. They fly over the black of the sea bed, like birds plumed with the light of heaven."

Um... okay. That was unexpected. "But you don't kill for the hanar anymore," I said slowly. "You're freelance. What changed?"

"I was asleep for a long time, yes," Thane nodded. "I paid no attention to what my body was asked to do. But then... laser dot trembles on his skull," he suddenly blurted out. "One finger-twitch, he dies. Then the smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset-coloured eyes defiant in the scope. The laser dances away."

Thane blinked his eyes and subtly shook his head. "My apologies. Drell slip into memories so easily."

Was _that _what all that eye-widening and speed-talking was about? Memories? Made sense, I suppose. That last one sounded like a recollection of a past hit job—and a failed one at that. "Was that one of your assassinations?" I asked, seeking confirmation.

Thane hesitated before responding. "Ah. Yes. Perhaps we can discuss it later. I've wasted too much of your time."

Translation: he'd rather not talk about it. At least, not now. "It's my time to waste," I replied before departing.

* * *

><p>That last conversation had definitely left my curiosity wanting. Somehow, I managed to resist the urge to indulge it for an entire week. I felt so proud.<p>

"Do you need something?" Thane politely asked when I finally dropped by.

I answered his question with a question. "Have a few minutes to talk?"

"If you wish."

"The last time we talked, you started speaking about a past event as if you were watching it," I began.

"Drell have perfect memories," Thane replied. "We can relive any moment in our lives with perfect clarity."

Must make writing exams a breeze.

"It's difficult to control at times. Some of us disappear into... Mmm, let's call it solipsism."

"'Solipsism'?" I repeated blankly.

"When a memory feels as real as life, it's as valid as life. Thinking about a moment brings back the smell of cut grass, the warmth of another's hand on yours, the taste of another's tongue in your mouth. Wouldn't you rather lose yourself in such a memory than spend the night alone, staring at walls of metal and plastic?"

Put that way, probably. Naturally, my mind immediately conjured up a downside. "Isn't there a risk that you could lose yourself in bad memories as well?"

"Of course," Thane acknowledged. "Remembering the times I've taken bullets is... unpleasant."

I would have used stronger language than that—at least, to myself. Aloud, I probably would have said something similar to Thane. More and more, I found myself admiring his tact and gift for understatement.

"But I can look at my knee and see it's not shattered." Thane paused before adding "The memories that are hard to escape are those of despair."

Sensing that we were skirting towards another uncomfortable subject, I decided to steer the conversation away—for now. "So you can remember everything that happened in your life?"

"Almost everything," Thane amended. "I expect if we remembered the birth trauma, we'd never recover from it."

Yeah, probably. "But you can re-live every assassination you've ever made?"

"In perfect detail. Every mistake I made. Every target's last breath."

"That sounds difficult," I sympathized. "At any moment, you could relive the guilt."

Thane looked surprised. "Guilt? No. I've never felt any particular guilt about my contract. My employers killed them. My body was only the tool they used."

I must have looked a bit sceptical, as Thane posed a question to me: "If you kill a man with your gun, do you hold the gun responsible?"

"My gun can't choose, nor can it decide right from wrong," I rebutted. "You clearly do."

"My soul does," Thane corrected, "but my body is merely flesh. Flesh whose reflexes were honed to kill."

"I don't follow."

"Drell beliefs are different from humans'," Thane elaborated. "We see our body as a vessel and accept that it is not always under our control."

I scratched my head. "So... you don't assume any responsibility for the things you do?"

"Not every action performed by my body is the result of conscious choices," Thane replied. "I take responsibility for those that are. As I understand it, humans often believe in a soul distinct from the body. A spirit responsible for moral reasoning that lives on after the body's death. Our beliefs are just a bit more literal."

Maybe it was just me, but I found it hard to believe that this set of beliefs worked for him. It seemed to me that this belief system could be countered by his perfect memory. No matter how hard he might try to believe that he wasn't really responsible, his perfect recall of every assassination probably hammered home the guilt every single time. Unless this thing about the soul and the body being separate—okay, now we were getting into ethics and philosophy and other intangibles. I felt a headache coming on. **(2)** "The last time we talked, you remembered one of your assassinations," I hastily said. "Something about 'sunset-coloured' eyes?"

"Ah. That time," was all Thane had time to say before his memories took over once more. "Laser dot trembles on his skull. Spice on the spring wind. Sunset eyes defiant in the scope.

"A bystander noticed my spotting laser and threw herself between me and the target," Thane said once he had recovered. "She couldn't see me, but she stared me down."

"I... see."

"You find her bravery surprising?"

"No—well, yes, but that's not the point," I replied. "It was odd that you just blurted that out, that's all. Just another vivid drell memory?"

A rare smile graced Thane's face again. "Not just—no. She was a vivid person."

"Did you have a chance to line up another shot?" I asked.

...

...

"Not that day," Thane said at last.

It suddenly registered that Thane had used the past tense to describe this woman. Clearly she meant something to him and, thanks to his eidetic memory, Thane couldn't possibly let time dull that wound. "I should get back to my duties," I lied, getting back to my feet.

"Shepard," Thane spoke before I could take a step. "I appreciate these chats we have."

"You've spent a lot of your life alone, Thane," I shrugged.

"Work fulfilled me. Reading, too. I barely spoke to anyone outside of my family. But now... it seems there will be no one to mourn me when I die. You're the only friend I've made in ten years."

That put my sad and pathetic life into a bit of perspective. Maybe I wasn't the only one who suffered from the universe's warped sense of humour. "Thank you for saying that. It's a shame you stay huddled up in here, though. The rest of us lose as much as you do when you hold yourself apart like that."

This time, Thane's smile was tinged with a bit of sadness. "I've found it difficult to sit in the ship's mess for meals. I'm used to keeping my back against a wall. Facing the doors."

The better to watch for potential hostiles and monitor points of ingress and egress. I was no stranger to that habit myself. Another thing we shared, I suppose.

"I'm trying to relax," Thane concluded. "To find my centre."

* * *

><p>Whether in combat or in our private conversations, Thane always maintained a calm, steady demeanour. He never lost his cool or his composure—something that was invaluable as a sniper, a squad mate and, well, a friend. Which made his agitation one not-so-fine day all the more unusual and alarming.<p>

"Shepard," he said briskly. "I mentioned when we met on Illium that I was dying."

I closed my eyes and sifted through the maze of memories, wishing that I had Thane's recall to speed things up. "Yeah," I finally said. "Kepral's Syndrome, wasn't it? Something about your lungs getting worse when exposed to prolonged moisture? **(3)** That was why you wound up bunking in Life Support—EDI said it's a bit more dry and arid than the other parts of the Normandy."

"Exactly," Thane nodded. "It's not communicable, but I have less than a year to live."

"Are you feeling sick," I frowned. "I could get Dr. Chakwas. Or Mordin."

"No, no," Thane hastened to reassure me. "Though I suppose that is a part of it. My mortality has me... dwelling on things."

He got up and walked over to his gun rack. He stared at a sniper rifle for a while, as if the familiarity of that weapon would settle his thoughts. It must've worked, because he finally spoke again. "I had a family once. I still have a son. His name is Kolyat. I haven't seen him for a very long time."

"How long has it been since you talked?" I asked.

"Ten years. He showed me some of his schoolwork and asked if we could dance crazy. We did that when he was younger."

"'Dance crazy'," I repeated. "What sort of dance is that?"

"It's—I check my extranet contracts. I expect an update on my next target. The console plays music. Old. Unfashionable."

Thane had apparently left the building again.

"Kolyat jumps into the room. 'Hi, Father!' Runs around in circles. I scoop him up. Toss him into the air. He shrieks. Laughs. 'Spin me!' The console beeps. I put him down. Click the message. 'Father,' he pleads. Tugs my sleeve. 'I need to read this,' I say. I don't look at him."

Thane lowered his head in shame as he concluded that memory. I waited a minute for him to recover before resuming my questions. "Did something happen to them?"

"I abandoned them.

"Not all at once," he quickly added, seeing the way my eyebrows lifted. "Nothing dramatic. No sneaking out in the middle of the night. No final argument or slammed door. I just... did my job. I hunted and killed across the galaxy. 'Away on business,' my wife would tell people. I was always away on business."

So the drell assassin with an unexpectedly staggering amount of introspection and philosophy was also an absentee father? Why can't I pick simple, uncomplicated misfits to join me? "You never mentioned anything about your family before," I said instead. "Why bring it up now?"

"When my wife departed from her body, I... attended to that issue."

Something told me he didn't mean arrange a funeral.

"I left Kolyat in the care of his aunts and uncles. I have not seen him or talked to him since."

My eyebrows lifted. "That's not the choice I expected. Why didn't you raise him yourself?"

"My body is blessed with the skills to take life," Thane explained sadly. "The hanar honed them in me. I have few others. I didn't want that life for Kolyat. I hoped he would find his own way. If he hated me, so be it. He would not have shared the path of sin. I used my contacts to trace Kolyat. He has become... disconnected. He does what his body wills."

Again with that body-soul thing. "You'll have to explain that one to me."

"The body is not our true self. The soul is. Body and soul work as one in a Whole Person. When the soul is weakened by despair or fear—when the body is ill or injured, the individual is disconnected. No longer Whole." **(4)**

"Okay," I said slowly. "So what's wrong with Kolyat? Is he hurt?"

"Something happened that should not have," Thane replied with a note of urgency. "He knows where I've been. What I've done. I don't know his reasons, but he has gone to the Citadel. He has taken a job as a hit man."

Following in Daddy's footsteps to get closer to the man he never really knew. Oh, the irony.

"I would like your help to stop him," Thane requested. "He is—this is not a path he should walk."

"What made him go to the Citadel?" I asked.

"Years ago, I prepared a package for him," he revealed. "A relic of my ill-spent life. I had volus bankers store it and arranged for delivery when I died. He acquired it early. I don't really know how. I did wet work on the Citadel around the time his mother died. That may be why he went there."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But that doesn't explain how he got hired. You don't hire a raw rookie for a contract killing."

"I'm afraid someone may have seen we share a name and assumed we share skills," Thane shrugged. "I don't know why he would accept the task."

"To be closer to you maybe?" I suggested.

I regretted that as soon as the words left my mouth. Thane's face slackened. "That thought haunts me more than any other," he whispered.

"Maybe he dropped your name to get hired," I tried instead.

"It's possible," Thane admitted, "but I don't think so. It doesn't seem right. My name... he should not respect it."

"Okay, fine. But why me? I don't have your contacts and I don't have your tracking skills. Why do you need my help for this?"

"I don't need your help," Thane corrected. "I want it. The last time I saw my son—"

By this point, I was getting used to Thane's seemingly involuntary memory flashes, so I wasn't too surprised when he suddenly started staring into space and babbling. "They've wrapped her body in sea-vines," he said. "Weighted it with stones. He tries to pull from me. Calls for her. The hanar lift her off the platform. They sing like bells. 'The fire has gone, to be kindled anew.' He begs them not to take her away. They let her body slide into the water. He hits me. 'Don't let them! Stop them! Why weren't you—?'

"It rains. It always rains on Kahje. Warm water pours down his face."

He finally stopped talking. I waited a moment to make sure he was finished before clearing my throat. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I didn't mean to make you relive that."

"Perfect memory," Thane replied, accepting my apology with a gracious nod. "It is sometimes a burden."

I checked my chronometer. "We can head over to the Citadel and search for your son tomorrow. Say, 0700?"

"My thanks," Thane replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be meditating until our departure."

* * *

><p>True to my word, I got the team to saddle up for another thrilling day. Before we left the Normandy, I asked EDI to do some searching. The results came in just as we landed. "According to C-Sec, a drell recently passed through customs. The C-Sec office may have more information."<p>

Thane shook his head as we walked towards the C-Sec office. At first I thought he was dismayed by this latest proof of his son's presence. I realized my error when he spoke: "You'd think Citadel Security would be the tightest in the galaxy."

Garrus snorted. "I know C-Sec too well to believe that's true."

"Indeed," Thane agreed. "I see no fewer than fourteen fatal flaws a skilled assassin could exploit. Eight of them existed when I was here ten years ago."

I decided to ask Thane about those flaws another time. If he was less distracted, maybe he could ID a couple more for me. **(5)**

As we entered the C-Sec office, I saw Bailey talking to a subordinate. "You'll have to make him scream a little," he told her. "He's not gonna tell you everything just 'cuz you ask."

"I—I know," the cop said nervously.

"If you don't have the stomach or you're worried about being reported, I can take care of it," Bailey offered, his tone suggesting a bit of exasperation.

"No sir," she shook her head. "I can take care of it."

"All right. You go do that." Bailey turned towards me. "Shepard," he acknowledged. "Back already? We haven't even started to plan a party for Garrus's departure yet."

"Then there's still time to invite me as the guest of honour," Garrus said smoothly.

"That'll be the day," Bailey snorted. "So why are you back? You wouldn't be up to anything, would you?"

"Who? Me?" I asked innocently. "Why would you say that?"

"I pulled up your records after the last time you passed through. Trouble follows you," Bailey said dryly. "Not that I'm getting on your ass about it," he quickly reassured me. "You get things done. Like helping us nail Fade's ass—I _knew _that Harkin was no good. Anyway, if something needs doing, you do it. No matter what. I respect that."

"Speaking of things needing doing, I'm here for my associate." I tilted my head towards Thane as I continued. "He's trying to find his son. We think a local criminal may have hired him."

Bailey glanced at Thane before leaning towards his console. "Should be easy. We don't see many drell here." He pulled up a bunch of reports and started scrolling through them. "There we go. One of my men reported a drell recently." His eyebrows rose after he finished skimming the relevant report. "And he was talking to Mouse. Interesting."

"Mouse?" Thane repeated.

"A petty criminal," Bailey dismissed. "Probably not the guy who hired your boy, but a messenger. He's a former duct rat, runs errands for anyone who'll pay."

"What's a 'duct rat'?" I asked.

"Local slang for the poor kids who grow up on the station," Bailey explained. "When they're small, they tend to play in the ventilation ducts where adults can't get to them."

"Aren't the ducts dangerous?" I frowned.

"Yeah," Bailey sighed. "Every couple of months, we pull a little body out of them. Lacerated by fan blades. Broken by a deadfall. Suffocated by vacuum exposure. Those are just the ones we know about. More just disappear. Maybe they get sucked into space. Maybe they fall into the protein vats the keepers run."

Great. Soylent Green all over again. **(6)**

"Mouse survived long enough that he can't fit in the ducts anymore. He was one of the smarter ones. Or the luckier ones."

"What sort of trouble has Mouse been getting himself into?" I asked.

"Odd jobs for shifty people," Bailey replied. "Duct rats take whatever's available to get by. Data running. Fencing stolen goods. Selling illegal VI personalities. Actually, he was selling one of you."

"Me?" I echoed, marvelling at Mouse's poor taste.

"Yeah," Bailey nodded. "When you erased a file, it would say 'I delete data like you on the way to real errors.'"

I swear I saw Miranda's lip twitch out of the corner of my eye. On the other side, I heard Garrus raise an eyebrow. "That's pretty extreme, Commander," he said mildly.

"Laugh it up, Garrus," I retorted, glaring at him.

"It was pretty damn buggy, though," Bailey added. "It crashed every half hour. The error message was about how the galaxy was at stake and you should fix the problem yourself."

I didn't know whether to be chagrined at the poor design of my ersatz counterpart, annoyed at my squad's perverse glee or amused at the contents of the error message. "I've heard enough," I said instead. "Where can we find Mouse?"

"He's usually upstairs, outside of the Dark Star Lounge," Bailey replied. "He works out of a public comm terminal. You should pick up a copy of the 'Shepard VI' when you talk to him."

Ignoring the snickers that were coming from my traitorous comrades, Bailey looked at Thane. "Sounds like your boy's running with the wrong crowd," he said sympathetically.

"Yes," Thane nodded. "I agree."

"If Mouse can't get you in touch with your son directly, he'll know who can," Bailey told him. "I'll help you if you need it. Cordon areas off to get the civilians out of the way, that sort of thing."

"Not that I don't appreciate the assistance, but you don't know us that well, Captain," I pointed out. "Why are you going out of your way to help us?"

Bailey was silent for a couple seconds before he gave his response. "I've worked the Zakera Ward for two years. Every day, kids turn to crime because they've got no other choice. Because their parents don't care."

He tilted his chair and looked Thane in the eyes. "You're trying to save yours."

I think Thane was a bit choked up at that admission. "He faces a dark path," he finally said.

"Then we better hurry," I piped up.

We said our goodbyes and left the office. Thane waited a couple minutes before bringing up something that he'd noticed. "You didn't tell him that Kolyat plans to assassinate someone."

"He's a cop," I reminded him. "He'd try to stop Kolyat and one of them could end up dead. I'd rather avoid that, if I can."

Thane blinked rapidly for a couple seconds before he could respond. "Thank you, Shepard," he rasped gratefully.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, Mouse was chatting at a public comm terminal outside the Dark Star Lounge. Dark brown hair with a moustache and beard, all closely shaven. He quickly glanced at me, motioned for me to hold one moment and finished off whatever conversation he was in the middle of. "Yeah. Sure, I can get you two cases by the end of the day."<p>

"You Mouse?" I asked once he signed off.

"Yeah," he said, turning around. "What do you—oh, shit!" he exclaimed, jumping back and holding up his hands in a 'Don't hurt me, I surrender' pose. "Krios? I thought you retired!"

He got a good look at me and jumped again. "Commander Shepard? I thought you died! What do you want with me? Whatever it is, I didn't do it, I swear!"

"Be still, Mouse," Thane said, patting him gently on the shoulder. "You can change your pants in a moment."

"How do you know Thane?" I wondered.

"Krios? He didn't—? Uh... if he didn't say nothin', I ain't either," Mouse declared, abruptly clamming up.

"When we heard the name, I didn't think it could be the same Mouse," Thane explained. "He was a contact on the Citadel when I was active. He and some other children would gather information on my targets."

"Wasn't that a bit dangerous, putting children in harm's way to spy for you?" I frowned.

"Not just the children; anyone who was poor and willing," Thane clarified. "My people's word for their kind is 'drala' fa': the ignored. They're everywhere, see everything. Yet they are never seen. I would not have employed them otherwise."

Okay, if _that _was the case, I might've done the same thing. Satisfied for the moment, I stepped back, letting Thane decide how to play things. Apparently, his patience was starting to wear thin, as he whipped an arm out and pulled Mouse towards him. "You gave another drell instructions for an assassination. Who's the target?"

"I... I don't know," Mouse sputter. "I didn't ask. 'Cause the people I work for? They can make me disappear. I'd like to help you, Krios. You always done right by us. But I ain't gonna die for you."

"Look," I interjected. "You know Thane. He wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Do it for him. For old time's sake."

Mouse looked at Thane and bit his lip. "I want to. He was always nice to us. But these people ain't nice, Krios."

"Nobody's going to know you talked to us," I reassured him. Hopefully I wasn't lying. It would sure be embarrassing for me—and inconvenient for him—if I was wrong.

"Mouse, I swear that you won't be named," Thane promised him.

"All right... all right," he sighed. "He came with that holo you took of me. Said he wanted a job. I ran through your old contacts to see who might give him a shot. They guy who offered was Elias Kelham."

"And he is..." I prompted.

"Human. Moved to the Citadel about ten years ago. He was little people when you were here, Krios." Thane nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Well, he got big after the geth attack. Lots of the big guys from before got cacked. All in them big fancy apartments up on the Presidium. Now he runs the rackets on the lower end of the Ward. Shin Akiba. He's seriously bad news."

"One other thing," I added. "That Shepard VI you're selling?"

Mouse jumped again. Now I knew where he got the name. "Oh, shit. You hear—look, you were dead, man! It was totally legal to make a VI of you."

"Give me a copy and we'll call it even," I proposed.

I think he was shocked that I didn't try to get a cut of the profits or something. So was I, come to think of it. "What—I mean, sure. Yeah, absolutely! Sorry about the whole..." He broke off and handed over an OSD. As I put it away, he added "Just so you know, there are three volus who are patching it all the time."

"Thanks. You did good, Mouse," I said.

Mouse smiled nervously. "Yeah. Hope I live long enough to pat myself on the back."

"Kelham will never know," Thane reassured him.

"I hope not. I'm out of here, Krios. Next time you're on the Citadel... well, don't bring the family, yeah?"

"That couldn't have been easy," I said to Thane as Mouse scampered away. "How're you holding up?"

"Mouse knew more about my life than Kolyat ever did," Thane said sadly. His eyes widened into a blank gaze as another memory popped up. "He smiles up at me, broken teeth and scabby knees. Bare feet black. A dead-end future looking up at me. Worshipping the petty gifts I offer.

He blinked his eyes and focused on me. "I was the only good thing he had, back then. But I left him, as I left Kolyat."

"Mouse said you had a holo of him."

"Yes," Thane nodded. "A foolish bit of sentimentality. I can perfectly recall every moment I spent with Mouse."

He illustrated that point with another memory flash, though I was never certain whether it was conscious or not: "He pulls at my arm. Smiles. He wants to know that I'll remember him. That anyone will remember him. I take the holo. He smiles at himself in miniature on my palm. Then a frown crinkles his brow. He pats my pockets, checking for other holos. 'Where's your son, Krios?' he asks."

He lowered his head in shame. "Don't beat yourself up about it," I offered lamely.

Thane wouldn't let me get him off the hook so easily. "If I don't, who will? We must carry the weight of our decisions, Shepard. You, of all people, know this."

He had a point, I had to admit. "Let's head back to Bailey," I finally said.

* * *

><p>"You talk to Mouse?" Bailey asked when we returned to the precinct. "Did you get the name of the guy he's working with?"<p>

"Elias Kelham," I replied.

He froze up. Aw, crap.

"Kelham," Bailey repeated. "Shit." He shook his head before looking at us with a mixture of embarrassment and shame. "Ah, look. This is awkward. Kelham and I have a—an agreement."

I could see where this was going.

"He doesn't cause too much trouble and 'buys tickets to the C-Sec Charity Ball' from me. In return, I... I ignore him. It keeps the peace."

Yep. "Is there a C-Sec Charity Ball?" I whispered to Garrus.

"There was," Garrus whispered back. "It was cancelled shortly after Saren's attack. Cost-saving measure."

Typical—both the reason for its cancellation and the revelation of another wrinkle in the mission. I just looked at him. To his credit, he looked back instead of squirming.

"You said you'd help us," I finally said. "Does that offer still stand, or is it too 'inconvenient'?"

Bailey shook his head. "There'll be repercussions if I don't handle it right, but this is more important. I'll get some of my people to bring him in and set him up in a private room. You can interrogate him yourself. I'll stay out of sight. If I'm lucky, Kelham will believe that I had nothing to do with it."

"Bring him in," I urged. "We might not have much time."

"I'll make it happen," Bailey nodded, getting to his feet. "Wait here."

As he left, I gave Garrus and Kasumi a look. They figured out what I wanted and casually wandered off. Not that I didn't trust Bailey. It's just that I didn't _completely _trust him.

True to his wordthough, Bailey got C-Sec to take him in. A human and turian in blue dragged a dark-haired guy in a decent suit into the precinct within an hour. As they escorted/dragged him to one of the interrogation rooms, I caught the eye of one of the other cops. "We've got Kelham," I told him. "Tell Bailey we're ready."

The cop saluted—why I don't know—and ran off. A minute later, Bailey walked up. "He'll expect me to get him out of this," he said, glancing at the interrogation room.

"Not this time, I think," Thane replied.

Bailey looked like he was about to say something, then brought a hand up to his ear. Garrus quickly tapped a command into his omni-tool. I later learned that he patched us into C-Sec's comm frequencies. All I cared about was that I suddenly heard the conversation.

"_...lawyer's here. Bet Elias has his VI set to page him if C-Sec gets within ten metres."_

"I'll stall him," Bailey told us. "Get in there. And work fast."

As Bailey left, Thane turned to me. "We should question him together. Keep the pressure on. Thoughts on how we approach it?"

"Uh..." I turned to Garrus. "Good cop, bad cop?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "Though most criminals are familiar with that tactic. You might try telling him that you're not cops instead."

"Because if we do, he might realize we're not bound by due process and cave faster," I finished. "Sure. That could work. You better not go in, then."

"Agreed," Garrus nodded.

"Okay," I decided. "Thane, you convince him that we'll put a bullet in his head if he doesn't talk. Once he's scared, he'll cooperate."

"Very well," Thane said. "I'll pretend we're ready to kill him. We can't push too hard, though. We need the information more than we need a corpse."

"Picky, picky," I muttered.

We walked over to the interrogation room. Kelham was sitting in a chair, shackled by his wrists and ankles. Before entering, I activated the intercom and listened. _"—do you think you are?" _we heard. _"Get me out of these restraints, Bailey. Pretty funny, bringing me down here like this—"_

I chose that moment to enter the room, Thane close on my heels. "Who the hell are you two?" he glared.

Thane and I looked at each other and split up. Thane chose to walk in front of him and give him the cold stare; I settled for any irritation, distraction or psychological advantage I could get from lurking out of his line of sight. We waited a moment to see if silence would loosen his tongue. It didn't.

"You hired an assassin," I started. "We need to know who you want killed. You tell us, you can go."

"I want to see my advocate," Kelham said immediately.

"You apparently haven't noticed we're not C-Sec," Thane rasped menacingly. "No deals. No due process. No advocate."

Kelham scoffed. "And that's supposed to scare me? You two are in _way _over your heads. Bailey won't let you touch me."

"Bailey doesn't know you're here," I informed him. "But he will—_after _we're done."

"You aren't the only one who can buy off C-Sec," Thane added helpfully.

"What are you, frog-boy," Kelham sneered, "his little apologist?" He craned his neck around to look at me. "So what's the plan, kid? Gonna bore me into confessing? You ain't shit. Come on. Hit me. I dare ya.

"No, huh?" Kelham laughed when I didn't take the bait. "Didn't think you'd have the balls."

"Think carefully, Elias," I said. "I want to catch the assassin. Not you. Why stick your neck out for him?"

"You want me to confess to putting a contract on someone. You think I'm stupid?"

"I get the name, I walk out," I shrugged. "You never see me again."

Kelham snorted. "I got no reason to believe you."

"Elias, if we were after you, we'd have already put a bullet in your head," Thane snapped. "Think about that for a minute." He looked at me and walked to the back of the room.

"This isn't working, Shepard," he hissed when I joined him. "We're not making any progress. Bailey can't stall his advocate forever."

True enough. We needed a Plan B.

"Are we done here?" Kelham called out. "'Cause I got people to see."

"We're done just as soon as—"

I was interrupted as the doors hissed open. "I said get out of my way, Bailey!" a man in a nice suit snapped, pushing past the captain. "You have no right to—what the hell is going on in here? Step away from my client!"

"We _are_ away from your client," I said helpfully.

"Is that—do you have him tied to the chair?"

"Nope," I replied. "He's _shackled_ to the chair. And we didn't do that. Big difference."

"You're in trouble now," Kelham smirked before glaring at his advocate. "Glad you could make it, Freddy."

"Traffic was bad," was all Freddy had to say. He took his time pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up, no doubt thinking he had the upper hand. "You'll need a shovel the size of the Citadel to dig yourself out of this," Freddy smiled.

"I don't think so," I smiled back. "You see, this is all above-board. I'm a Council Spectre."

Freddy pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and gaped at me. His shoulders slumped. "Shit," he said at last.

Kelham looked back and forth between Freddy and I. "What? What does that mean, Freddy?"

"Spectres can do whatever they want, Elias," Freddy said. "I can't help you."

"Shit," Kelham repeated.

"If it was you I wanted, I could kill you and go." I leaned towards him. "Fancy suits and legal briefs aren't exactly bullet-proof, if you catch my drift. But today's your lucky day. I just want the assassin. Tell me who the target is and I'll leave. Keep mouthing off and..." I gestured towards my pistol.

"Damn it," Kelham cursed. "Joram. Joram Talid. He's a turian, running for Intendant of Zakera Ward."

"Where can we find him?" Thane asked.

"His apartment's in the 800 blocks."

"Thank you for your cooperation." I glanced at Thane. "Let's go."

We left to find Bailey. Didn't take long—he was waiting outside the interrogation room. "What's the story?" he asked. "Why did Kelham hire the boy?"

"Assassination," I replied. "A turian named Joram Talid. You know him?"

"Joram? Yeah." Bailey shook his head in disgust. "You might have seen his posters around. He's promising to end organized crime on the Ward. Thing is, his message is all mixed up in race politics. He's anti-human."

"Are things so bad out here that people can openly campaign as anti-human?" I asked.

"Before the Battle of the Citadel, the alien population thought we were violent upstarts," Bailey replied. "Look what's happened since then. A human fleet guarding the station for months. C-Sec filled with humans. Anderson does what he can, but some people have lived on the station since before humans had starships. They see it as a coup."

Of course, they'd think that. Why recognize the fact that no other race had the resources or manpower to keep every Tom, Dick and Harry from shooting up the Citadel or looting anything that wasn't nailed down when you could just nurse old stereotypes instead? I shook my head in dismay. "Maybe we should focus on something we can actually deal with," I suggested.

Bailey grunted and flagged down a human cop. "Sergeant! Get a couple patrol cars. These men and women need to get to the 800 blocks."

"Yes sir," the woman saluted. She led us to the precinct's skycar bay. We divided ourselves into groups of four and piled in.

On the ride over, we discussed over the comm how to best handle it. In the end, we decided that Thane, Kasumi and I would find Talid. Everyone else would split into teams under the command of Miranda, Garrus and Jacob and cover the exits to make sure no one escaped.

It didn't take long to find Talid. He was the only one with a krogan Blood Pack bodyguard. "Have we seen anything good since the humans moved into Zakera Ward?" he asked a small crowd.

"I like their food," a salarian piped up.

Talid laughed heartily. "I'll have to take your word on that. I can't eat human food. But let's be serious. Since the Shin Akiba enclave opened, crime has increased. Incidents of racial tension are up _24 percent_, despite 116 new C-Sec officers being assigned to the Ward. Of course, most of those officers aren't turian or salarian or asari. They're _humans _who turn a blind eye to the crimes committed by other humans. That corruption goes all the way to the top. Don't think that a human with a C-Sec captain's badge is any less a crook than the thugs he deals with."

"How do you want to handle this?" I asked Thane as the politician yapped away.

"Follow Talid on the maintenance catwalks," Thane replied, pointing above us. "Tell me what he's doing. The krogan bodyguard will make him easy to follow. Kasumi, follow him on the ground."

"What about you?" Kasumi asked. "Where will you be?"

"The darkest corner with the best view," Thane said cryptically.

Kasumi shrugged and sauntered off, quickly getting lost in the crowd. I started to walk away myself, but turned back when I heard Thane speak. He had his head bowed down and his hands clasped together.

"Amonkira, Lord of Hunters," he prayed. "Grant that my hands be steady, my aim be true and my feet swift. And if the worst should come to pass, grant me forgiveness."

A couple passed between us as he concluded, temporarily blocking my line of sight. When they moved away, Thane was gone. No cloak. No fancy gadgets. Just pure skill. I made a mental note to ask him how he did that. Out of curiosity, you understand.

Might come in handy one day.

* * *

><p>Civvies always think that snipers do nothing but shoot people. It's more than that. Snipers have to sneak through enemy territory, find good vantage points and keep watch until their target shows up. Believe me; you'd be surprised how much you can see when you're safely hidden several kilometres away. Watching patrol routines, seeing if or when people are dropping things off and picking them up, figuring out whether some REMF's inflicting himself or herself on an enemy garrison. Heck, most of the time, our orders are to perform recon and surveillance, not drill holes in people's foreheads like I'd been doing on and off for the last couple of years. I was almost looking forward to this part of the mission. No one was shooting at me, yet I still had a chance to do what I was trained to do.<p>

"It's been wonderful talking to you all," Talid was saying. "I hope you'll all come out on Election Day."

"You can count on it," another salarian—or maybe the same one—assured him.

"Show those humans they can't get their way!" a turian shouted.

"Thanks," Talid chuckled. "But remember, it's not all about the humans. They couldn't have gotten this far without the Council's support. Taking back our Ward is only the first step. We must remove the cowards and appeasers on the Council. This doesn't stop here. I won't rest until the humans have been removed from power!"

Tuning Talid out, I looked around. I couldn't see Kasumi or Thane, but I did spot a datapad lying on the catwalk. Picking it up, I thumbed it on and skimmed through its contents. It had a bunch of schematics for a pistol upgrade. "Thane?" I said, pocketing the datapad while activating the comm and setting it to the channel Thane, Kasumi and I had agreed upon. "I'm on him. He's still talking to the same group of voters."

"Understood."

"Everyone in position?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Sure thing."

Talid and his bodyguard began walking. I went through a set of doors and emerged on another catwalk.

"Have you got him?" Thane asked over the comm.

"Other races wait patiently for hundreds or thousands of years to earn an embassy. Do the humans? No! They win one battle and think they're owed a Council seat. **(7)** That's not how _we_ do things. My people won a krogan war before we asked for that honour. We respect tradition!"

"Looks like he's talking to another voter," I replied.

"Any sign of Kolyat?"

I looked around. Lots of turians, salarians and a couple asari. Plenty of bright red and yellow neon lights. Even a 'Take Back Your Station' poster. But no drell. "No."

"Same here," Kasumi piped up.

"I'm moving to another position ahead of him," Thane said before turning off the comm.

"Humans think anything ten years old is obsolete!" Talid ranted. "Worthless! How can they contribute to a 2000-year old government?"

"Yeah."

"You said it."

"It's been wonderful talking with you all. I hope you'll come out on Election Day."

I thought they'd continue going forward. Instead, they took a right. Shaking my head, I hurried to catch up. "Lost contact," I reported as I passed through another set of doors.

"Got them," Kasumi reassured me.

"No problems so far," Thane added.

"Okay. Ah, got 'em." I jogged up ahead, entering another corridor. This one was lit up with blue lights. "They're slowing down."

"Can you give me an update?"

"They're outside a store named 'Aquila'," Kasumi said. "Talid's waiting outside while the bodyguard goes in."

She was right. Talid was casually leaning back outside the door, next to a vid-panel displaying the slogan 'Take a Stand Against Crime,' where no one inside could see him. From my viewpoint, though, I saw the krogan inside lumber menacingly towards the clerk. "Looks like the bodyguard's shaking down the store for money."

"He's letting the bodyguard do all the work," Thane observed. "That lets him deny involvement."

After a couple tense minutes, the clerk passed something over. The bodyguard grabbed it violently enough to scare the crap out of the guy before leaving to rejoin Talid. To my surprise, they hurried off. I jogged ahead, only to belatedly realize that they'd gone the other way. I doubled back and passed through some doors. To my relief, I caught up with them just as they slowed down to a walk.

Their next stop was in a small club called i-NOVA. I watched them from the catwalk above. "I don't have a good angle," Thane said. "What's he doing?"

"The bodyguard is talking to the bartender. Looks like another shakedown," I replied. "Two consecutive businesses employing, if not owned by, humans. Interesting..."

"Still no sign of Kolyat," Kasumi added.

"I'm relocating to the next room," Thane decided. "Let me know if anything changes."

Nothing changed, unless you count more creds changing hands. They stopped to talk to a couple of krogan in red armour.

"He's meeting a couple of mercenaries," I told him. "Looks like Blood Pack."

"Same group his bodyguard comes from," Kasumi sniffed. "I'd have thought he'd go for Blue Suns or something."

"Blue Sun turians aren't as intimidating as Blood Pack krogan," I guessed.

"He looks nervous," Thane observed. "Could be he's noticed you or Kasumi."

"Hey!"

"Or maybe he saw Kolyat somewhere," I suggested, trying to keep my voice calm. Thane was probably feeling a bit anxious—he normally wasn't the kind of guy to go around making accusations like that.

"Also a possibility," Thane conceded. "There are obstructions ahead. I'll try to go around. Don't lose him."

"Good thing you told us that," Kasumi grumbled. She was still smarting from Thane's earlier insult, intentional or otherwise. "I'd have never figured that out on my own."

"This isn't our first time, Thane," I chided.

"My apologies."

Time for me to plan my next move as well. "Kasumi," I said, looking around, "I have to pass through another door or two up ahead."

Kasumi sighed. "Sure, sure, you boys go run off and play. Let a woman do all the work."

"I knew you could handle it," I replied. I walked along the catwalk; softly enough that I could hear one of the thugs reassure Talid that he had nothing to worry about. "You're runnin' for office," he rumbled. "Lots of people watch you."

I lost track of the rest of the conversation as I passed through the doors. To my surprise, I entered some kind of store. A stock boy saw me and ran over. "Hey! Who are you? What are you doing back here?"

"I'm with Citadel Health and Safety," I improvised smoothly. "We've had vermin reports in storage areas around here."

"What? You can't be serious," he scoffed. "How did you get in here?"

"Same way you did. Look, if I didn't have authorization, how did I get in? You see any other doors?"

"Well... but there—never mind. Just—just go on through, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," the stock boy muttered, looking around nervously. "Just don't let my boss see you."

That delay with that silly little kid could have cost me. Sure, Kasumi and Thane were probably on it, but that didn't reassure me. "Report," I said, activating the comm.

"Just lost contact," Kasumi replied.

"I can see the bodyguard, but there is an elcor in the way," Thane reported.

Breaking into a jog, I re-acquired the target. Talid and the krogan were walking down a corridor. A human behind them was suddenly shoved to the side. The person responsible...

...was a drell.

With a gun.

"Kolyat!" I yelled.

Talid and the guard turned around. So did the drell. He looked at me before turning back and lifting his gun. The guard shoved him out of the way. "Call C-Se—argh!"

Kolyat scored a direct hit. Not enough to kill him, but enough to take him out of the fight. "Thane!" I called out, vaulting over a rail and sliding down a support column to the floor below.

"I saw." Thane came out from behind a potted plant and joined me.

"They must be headed for Talid's apartment," I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kasumi pop up and make a bee-line for the Blood Pack merc. Satisfied that she'd look after him, the two of us pursued our target—and Thane's son.

* * *

><p>By the time we caught up to them, Talid was already kneeling on the ground. Kolyat was standing behind him, gun pointed at the back of his head. I pulled out my pistol and aimed it at him. Thane spread his hands out empty-handed and slowly walked towards him. "Kolyat," he greeted him.<p>

"This—this is a joke," Kolyat sputtered in disbelief. "Now? _Now_ you show up?"

"Help me, drell," Talid whimpered. "I'll do whatever you want."

Speaking of showing up, Bailey picked this moment to walk through the door, accompanied by another human, a turian and an asari. "C-Sec," he identified his motley crew. "Put the gun down, son."

"Get out of my way," Kolyat demanded. "I'm walking out. He's coming with me."

"They'll have snipers outside," Thane implored him.

Kolyat whipped his head towards him. "I don't need your—"

I shifted my aim and fired my pistol. Kolyat jumped as the expensive vase to his left shattered. He looked towards the shards before turning to me. "What the—gah!"

He stumbled back, hand going up to his face where I'd punched him. Reaching out, I yanked the pistol from his hands and roughly stuffed it into my holster. Keeping my pistol trained on him, I pulled Talid to his feet with my other hand. "Talid, get the hell out of here."

"Yeah. Yeah! I will!"

The asari cop stepped forward to steady and escort him out. That left three humans—including yours truly—two drell and a turian.

"Boys, take him into custody," Bailey ordered.

Kolyat stiffened and glared at Thane. "You son of a bitch!" he hissed.

I motioned for the cops to stop before they could make a move. "Your father doesn't have much time left, Kolyat," I told him. "He's trying to make up for his mistakes."

"What, so you came to get my forgiveness?" Kolyat sneered. "So you can die in peace or something?"

Thane took a few steps towards his son. "I came to grant you peace."

Kolyat just gawked at him. Thane lowered his head shamefully and gazed at the floor. He took a deep breath and looked up again. "You're angry because I wasn't there when your mother died."

"You weren't there when she was alive," Kolyat shook his head angrily. "Why should you be there when she died?"

"Your mother—they killed her to get to me. It was my fault."

"What?" Kolyat asked, his voice stunned and quiet for the first time.

"After her body was given to the deep, I went to find them," Thane explained. "The trigger men. The ringleaders. Everyone. I hurt them. Eventually killed them. When I went back to see you, you were... older. I should have stayed with you."

"I guess it's too bad for me you waited so long, huh?" Kolyat spat bitterly.

Thane found the floor very interesting again. "Kolyat," he said at last, "I've taken many bad things out of the galaxy. You're the only good thing I ever added to it. Don't follow my path, I beg you. You deserve better than that."

Now it was Kolyat's turn to stare at the floor. He didn't say anything. Neither did Thane. They stood there for a moment before Bailey coughed. "This isn't a conversation that you two should have in front of strangers." He turned to the other C-Sec officers. "Boys, take Kolyat and his father back to the precinct. Give them a room and as much time as they need."

Thane stepped forward and gingerly placed a hand on his son's arm. Kolyat looked up at him, tears running down his face. Either that, or his facial scales had gotten a lot shinier in the last minute or two. "I'm surprised you're letting him do that," I murmured to Bailey. "Not that I don't appreciate it; I do. It's just unexpected."

Bailey looked at Thane and Kolyat before turning to me, a sad look on his face. "You think he's the only man who ever screwed up raising his kid?"

Ah.

"I have to get back to the precinct," Bailey harrumphed before things could get awkward. "Come on. I'll give you a lift."

* * *

><p>Thane and Kolyat disappeared inside one of the interrogation rooms. This time, no one was shackled to a chair. The rest of the squad, having formed up again, hung around the precinct. None of us had much to do, other than try to make some pathetic attempt at chit-chat.<p>

Bored and with nothing to do, I looked at my chronometer again. To my surprise, a couple of hours had passed. "They've been in there awhile," I said aloud.

"Kid's been through a lot," Bailey pointed out.

"Fair enough," I conceded. "Hey, random question for you: earlier today, you recommended that someone should 'make him scream a little?' 'Cuz something needed doing?"

Bailey's face darkened briefly. "You've spent enough time poking around here. You saw what it's like here in the Wards. It ain't the damn Presidium!" He emphasized that last point by slamming his hand on the desk—and scaring a passing cop. "All they have to worry about are protesters outside their 'free speech zones' or someone's poodle crapping on the grass! Down here, we have drugs, organized crime and murder. Policing the Wards is like policing New York City! Sometimes you have to work outside the Council's rulebook."

Garrus raised an eyebrow. "C-Sec has changed," he murmured. "Maybe I left too soon."

"I'm guessing you didn't realize that when you started," I commiserated, choosing to ignore Garrus for the time being. "How did you end up working on the Citadel, anyway?"

"I started with the Alliance way back when, but the travelling was killing me," Bailey replied, resuming his computer typing. "It's a shitty life if you're trying to raise a family, seeing your kids every six months. I joined C-Sec so I could stay in one place. Put down roots."

"You like life here on the Citadel?"

"Life here is good," Bailey shrugged. "Helluva lot different than life back on Earth. I miss the food mostly. You just can't get sockeye salmon on the station."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Can't remember the last time I had decent salmon myself. You ever get back there?"

"Earth? Every couple of years. Less and less all the time. But when I finish my stint with C-Sec, there's a nice little place in the foothills I'm going to retire to." He looked up at me and added "Not that I'm retiring any time soon."

"I got the hint," I laughed. "So what're you doing?"

"I've been running some searches in the C-Sec archive," Bailey replied. "About ten years back, a bunch of real bad people were killed. Like someone was cleaning house. The prime suspect was a drell. We never caught him."

Bailey and I exchanged glances.

"Ten years is a long time," I finally said. "Whoever was responsible for that probably doesn't exist anymore."

Bailey gave a knowing smile and nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right about that."

At that point, a door hissed open behind us. Looking back, I saw Thane step out. He seemed contemplative; something that was par for the course when he was meditating, not so much when he was on a mission. Of course, this wasn't just any mission. "How'd it go?" I asked.

"Our problems... they aren't something I can fix with a few words," Thane replied. "We'll keep talking, see what happens."

"I hate to bring this up," Bailey interrupted gently, "but we need to talk about what happened. Your boy shot some people."

"Those people were shaking down businesses and threatening humans," I interjected. "Talid isn't looking to eliminate organized crime. He's only interested in targeting the elements that offer any competition. Especially if they're human."

"I'm not saying I feel sympathy for them," Bailey said, "but Kolyat can't just get away with it."

"True enough," I agreed. "But jail's not the answer. Look, the kid made a stupid mistake, but I'm sure he wants to make up for it. Maybe make a difference in some small part of the galaxy. Can't you give him community service or something?"

"Community service for attempted murder?" Bailey looked at me incredulously. "What jury would agree to that?"

"None that I've seen," I replied, giving him a sly grin. "Which means this would have to stay out of the judiciary. Strictly within C-Sec."

Bailey gave me a shrewd look. At last, he offered another knowing smile and nodded. "Interesting. I'll think about it." He got up and extended a hand towards Thane. "Thank you, Captain," Thane said, shaking his hand.

"I'm just glad I can give your son a second chance," Bailey shrugged. "Those things don't come by all that often. You remember that, you hear?"

"I will."

* * *

><p>Bailey came through for us once again. He sent me the following e-mail shortly after I returned to the Normandy:<p>

_From: Captain Bailey, C-Sec  
><em>

_Hey, Shepard. Just wanted to let you know that the drell kid's doing okay._

_Everything's taken care of legally, and he's doing some work for me. Helping me deal with some trash in the Wards, maybe make life better for some of the kids like Mouse. Not perfect, but then what is?_

_Don't know if your drell and mine are talking. I told him life was too short not to, but I don't know if it took._

_Good luck out there._  
><em>-Bailey<em>

I decided to drop by Life Support to see if Thane was talking to his son. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't in the midst of any meditations or memories. "What're you up to?"

"I am—I had been recording a message for Kolyat."

"How're things going for him?"

"It is difficult. All things worth keeping are." Thane paused a moment before continuing. "I never explained—I suppose the story of my wife's death took you by surprise."

"Don't worry about it," I waved it off. "I figured you'd explain it to me when you were ready."

"I appreciate your patience," Thane nodded, "but after all you've done, you deserve to know. I kept my work clear of our home life. I assumed that would be enough to protect Irikah. That memory I mentioned before—

"Laser dot trembles on the target's skull. The smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset eyes defiant in the scope."

Thane blinked as the memory ended. "That was Irikah. That was how I met her. She saw my targeting laser as she walked by and threw herself in the way."

"Damn," I marvelled. "Few civvies would do that. I guess she must've impressed you."

"She woke me up," Thane said. "Her body trembles. Not fear. Indignation. Her mouth moves. 'How dare you?'"

That last bit was another flash, in case you were wondering.

"You and I trained to sacrifice ourselves to save others. As you said, it is not often that a civilian steps in the way of a bullet to protect someone they've never met? I thought she was the goddess Arashu. She met my eyes through the scope and my purpose faltered."

"So how did she go from blocking your shot to marrying you and raising a son with you?" I asked.

"I had to meet her. The memory of her bravery possessed and endowed me. I fell on my knees before her. Begged her pardon. She introduced me to the world beyond my work. Eventually, she forgave me. Later, she loved me."

"And then..." I broke off, not sure how to approach this. "When you talked to Kolyat," I said at last, "you said she died."

"I let myself become complacent. I thought Irikah and Kolyat were safe. I stayed away too long and my enemies came for her."

"Who came for her?"

"Batarians. A slaver ring that was preying on hanar outer colonies. I'd killed their leaders. They paid the Shadow Broker to find out who I was. But they were afraid of me, so they went after her."

"You told Kolyat that you hunted her killers down," I recalled.

"Irikah woke me up. When she passed, I returned to my battle sleep. My body hunted her killers. Murdered them. I was taught to grant death quickly, cleanly. To minimize suffering. Them—I let them linger."

"You were operating on instinct," I pointed out. "By your own rules, you can't blame yourself."

"But I made the choice to hunt them. They're the only lives I've ever taken of my own choice. The only deaths on my conscience."

True enough. More important was the fact that he recognized his beliefs on this body-soul thing couldn't weasel him out of this one. Rather than try, however, he was willing to admit it and determined to own up to it.

"I haven't spoken about my wife in..." Thane paused. "I don't think I ever have. I didn't have anyone left to tell it to."

"Thane, the worst thing is to face deaths with regrets," I told him. If there was one thing the whatever-it-was I had with Miranda had taught me, it was that. "I'm glad you felt you could come to me with this. You're part of my crew—and I consider you a friend. If there's anything I can help you with, or if you need a sounding board, just ask."

"I've never been part of a team," Thane commented. "Assassins tend to be solitary. I'm learning the virtues of facing death with others at your side. It's a work in progress."

"Like reconnecting with your son," I nodded, remembering the original purpose for my visit. "I'll let you get back to that."

"Thank you again, Shepard."

"You're welcome."

To further drive home the point, I'd selected a very specific song. It had been playing through the loudspeakers during our conversation and was just starting to wrap up as I left the room:

"_I've long since retired, my son's moved away.  
>I called him up just the other day.<br>I said, 'I'd like to see you if you don't mind.'  
>He said, 'I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time.<br>You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu.  
>But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad'<br>It's been sure nice talking to you.'_

_"And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me:_  
><em>He'd grown up just like me.<em>  
><em>My boy was just like me.<em>

_"And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon._  
><em>Little boy blue and the man on the moon.<em>  
><em>When you comin' home son?<em>  
><em>I don't know when, but we'll get together then son.<em>  
><em>You know we'll have a good time then." <em>**(8)**

* * *

><p><em>(1): Thomas Hobbes is considered one of the founders of human political philosophy. He is renowned for concepts such as the right of the individual, the equality of all men and women and that political communities must be based on a 'social contract' that is granted to governments by the people.<br>_

_(2): Most people in Shepard's position would have given up long before that. Shepard's persistence is a credit to both his curiosity and his desire to learn about other cultures, no matter how different. _

_(3): A disease that bears striking similarity to the human disease known as cystic fibrosis._

_(4): A belief that is strikingly similar to those of numerous indigenous Earth cultures. _

_(5): One of the few instances where Shepard's curiosity was outweighed by his desire to help his squad mate and friend. _

_(6): A human vid released in 1973, in which a food ration supplement distributed to the population is secretly synthesized from human remains. _

_(7): Following Joram Talid's logic regarding tradition, he would have humanity demand a seat on the Council immediately, rather than accept the honour of an embassy first and pursuing application for Council membership through proper diplomatic channels: the asari and salarians, as the first species to independently discover (or re-discover) the Citadel, established themselves as the first two members of the Council; while the turians were granted immediate appointment to the Council within a hundred years of first contact for their role in ending the Krogan Rebellions. Furthermore, the unofficial tradition and precedent for Council membership requires that the candidate species be capable of providing naval, material and economic resources and assistance and provide at least one instance of extraordinary service; both of which humanity had done. _

_(8): 'Cat's in the Cradle', a folk rock song released by Harry Chapin in 1974._


	30. Square Root of 91204 is 302

**Chapter 20: Square Root of 912.04 is 30.2**

It was with mixed feelings that I gave the order to leave the Citadel. On the one hand, it was filled with nothing but headaches—such as silly civvies that needed nosy strangers to solve their problems, pesky reporters and TPTB. On the other hand, it boasted shops where I could buy some nice toys. Plus, no one tried to kill me. Unless you counted random thugs and mercs who accosted me during my hunt for Saren. Or the Blue Suns who'd recently sneaked in while TPTB and C-Sec were napping and took offense to my efforts to chastise them. Or the elcor actors who were trying to kill me with their agonizingly slow and monotone rendition of Shakespeare. Or...

Okay, maybe those feelings weren't so mixed after all.

I spent some time trying to tinker with that copy of the Shepard VI I'd picked up. About an hour later, I'd come to the conclusion that I was no programmer. Finding patterns in computer code to exploit when hacking or bypassing was one thing. Actually figuring out what was wrong with it and fixing it was another matter entirely. Maybe I needed a break. I opened up my e-mail browser and...

Nuts.

The most recent e-mail was from my favourite pal in the galaxy: TIMmy. He wanted me to put the Mission on hold so I could sally forth on some random assignment. **(1) **For a moment, I was tempted to turn around, dock at the Citadel again and waste most of a day listening to a bunch of droning elcor butcher the Bard's work. And by a moment, I meant a good half-hour of listening to jazz. Plus ten or fifteen minutes re-routing the bug in my quarters to the AI core, where whoever was on the other end could spend their times watching Legion performing their rendition of the Robot dance.

Eventually, I gave in to the inevitable. After copying the e-mail to a datapad, I dropped by the cockpit to chat with Joker and EDI. Not surprisingly, our AI wasn't all that helpful, so I wound up telling Joker to lay in a course for a certain planet and headed down to Deck Three to pay Miranda a visit.

"Shepard," she greeted me with a smile. Yeah, that's right—a _smile_. Okay, maybe it was somewhere between a wide grin and a lip-twitch, but it was still a smile nonetheless. Still getting used to that, even though it looked really good on her. "What can I do for you?"

"You have a minute, Miranda?"

"For you? Always."

Still getting used to that, too.

"What do you know about Project Overlord?" I asked.

"ProjectOverlord," she repeated with a frown. "Do you mean _Operation _Overlord? As in the codename for the Allied invasion of Normandy during World War II?"

"Actually, I meant _Project _Overlord," I replied, handing over the datapad. "As in the Cerberus cell."

She took the datapad and read TIMmy's e-mail:

_From: Illusive Man  
>Shepard,<em>

_One of our cells just went off the grid without explanation. Project Overlord has been experimenting with highly volatile technology, and I need you to investigate. Their work is extremely compartmentalized, enough that I can't divulge operational details over this channel. You'll find them on the planet Aite, Typhon system, in the Phoenix Massing cluster. Please use care in this matter._

"I've never heard of it," Miranda admitted, returning the datapad, "but that's not all that surprising. I did say that Cerberus compartmentalized itself into cells."

"True," I sighed, "but I was hoping you'd know _something_. I'm a bit tired of blindly walking into a tourist destination recommended by TI—by the Illusive Man," I hastily corrected. **(2)** "I've already asked EDI, even though that was a waste of time."

"Really? What did she say?" Miranda asked curiously.

"'I have a block preventing me from answering that question,'" I mimicked.

Miranda gave another cute smile. "Let me reach out to my contacts in Cerberus Information Processing. I may be able to get a... a 'travel advisory' for you."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

* * *

><p>Miranda didn't have much time, since we arrived at Aite within a day. All she managed to obtain were a bunch of garbled and redacted e-mails and a shipping manifest. That was enough to give me a hint, though. Cryptographic analyzers, quantum blue boxes, flash-copies of entire databases from R&amp;D labs specializing in VI research and similar equipment—all forwarded to a planet on the outskirts of geth-controlled space. Didn't take a genius to figure out that the Overlord cell was mucking about with the geth and something went totally FUBAR. <strong>(3)<strong> Again.

It took an awful lot of convincing to get the squad to follow me, but not for the reasons you might think. They weren't objecting about going off on some arbitrary assignment—I think I'd worn them down after the last several months. They weren't even objecting about jumping at TIMmy's beck and call—except for Jack, of course. No, they were objecting about _how_ we were going to go planetside.

Normally, we'd take the shuttle down. But EDI's scans indicated four separate facilities on Aite. I didn't want to walk over. And the shuttle didn't exactly come equipped with anything remotely resembling weapons. So on the off chance that we'd run into some heat between buildings, I decided to take the replacement to the Mako instead.

It would make sense to me if they were worried about the fact that the Hammerhead sacrificed shields for manoeuvrability. But for some inexplicable reason, their objections were focused on the driver—that's me, by the way. Can't imagine why they'd be worried. The Hammerhead _did _have a self-repairing chassis, after all.

They finally agreed to let me drive on one condition: if we encountered any hostile forces, I had to use the Hammerhead's weapons instead of trying to run them over. And here I thought that _I _was the commanding officer.

I told Joker to drop us off at the building complex with the big honkin' satellite dish. Since any distress call that made its way to TIMmy probably came from there, it was as good a place as any to start looking. We'd scarcely stepped out when Miranda abruptly frowned and started tapping her omni-tool. She must've been monitoring Cerberus comm frequencies and patched one of them through in to the squad channel, because a hiss of static rang through our ears.

"_Thank god you came!" _a voice said. _"My name is Dr. Gavin Archer. The situation is urgent—we're facing a catastrophic VI breakout. I'll explain the details later, but you must retract that transmission dish! The controls aren't far from your position. You have to hurry!"_

Transmission—aw, crap. If this VI was as bad as Archer was saying, then it could use the comsat dish to broadcast itself offworld. Since we were on the clock, we had to move. I only spent a minute looking around for loot—never say no to free power cells or med kits—before entering the facility and heading down a flight of stairs into a large hall.

"_Be advised," _an automated announcement rang out over the PA system, _"this is a secure facility. All weapons must be declared upon entry and checked with security personnel on duty."_

Nudging the dead Cerberus operative out of my way, I doubted that that would happen any time soon. Call it a hunch.

"_Over here—on the monitor."_

Looking around, I saw a man with closely-cropped brown hair and a well-trimmed bit of facial fuzz. I finished descending the stairs, stepped around a pile of papers and a small fire and stopped in front of a giant flatscreen.

"Dr. Archer, I presume?" I guessed.

"_That's me. I've locked myself in a computer room on the far side of the base. There are geth on the loose."_

"How did that happen?" This time, that is.

"_A rogue VI program has seized control and... I've lost a lot of friends today. I'd hate to see you join them. Please watch yourself."_

Awfully presumptive of the doc to consider us friends. Mind you, we were gonna shoot our way to him and get rid of all those loose geth. Guess that makes us his new set of buddies, pals, friends and so on. My musings were interrupted by Jack's outburst.

"Fuck," she spat. "I knew it. Same shit as always."

"That's enough," Miranda snapped.

"Aw, did I say something to upset the cheerleader?" Jack mocked. "What's the matter? Can't admit that your precious Cerberus fucked something up again?"

"We still don't know what Project Overlord is up to, nor do we understand the circumstances that led to the present situation," Miranda replied icily. "Idle speculation will get us nowhere."

"Bullshit! You—"

"All right," I hastily intervened. "I'll admit that Cerberus doesn't have the best track record when it comes to their pet projects, but we don't have all the facts yet. Until we do, let's focus on getting to the transmission dish."

Jack and Miranda quieted down, though I noticed the cold look Miranda sent my way. I'd like to think she was disappointed that I didn't offer more vocal support for Cerberus. Or maybe she was upset that another Cerberus project had gone horribly awry—as dedicated and loyal as she was to the Mission and the Cause, she was smart enough to realize that the evidence was starting to pile up. I couldn't shake the nagging possibility that she was looking for a more unequivocal and visible show of support from me, given recent developments in our... relationship. If so, I may have just sowed the seeds for our First Fight. Wonderful.

I quickly pulled myself away from that line of thought and back to the mission, something made easier by the lack of loot in the room. Moving into a corridor, we saw one door at the end and another on our right—the latter of which was locked. If memory served me correctly, there was a damaged window leading into that room from the hall. Backtracking, I quickly confirmed that my memory wasn't going yet. I pounded on the glass, but that didn't do the trick. I prepped my omni-tool to charge up some plasma—

Our heads jerked up as Grunt's shotgun discharged.

Eh, that worked, too. Vaulting over the window sill, I entered a small room. While the rest of the squad followed, I started looting anything I could find, casually activating a log in the process:

"_Status report: Please inform the Illusive Man that we've made great strides in our research. His doubts about the lack of progress are unwarranted. A demonstration is forthcoming." _

Great. Archer and his band of merry men were trying to do something with VIs and geth, probably screwing around with stuff that anyone with the smallest iota of common sense would leave well enough alone, and TIMmy just had to tell them to hurry up. Shaking my head, I led the squad out of the room, down a corridor and into a large room. Judging by the look of thing, it was the control room for the transmission dish.

Scooting around another dead body, I found a few computer terminals that weren't a pile of smoking ruins. One of them had another log from Archer:

"_Memo to all project personal, I understand there is some concern handling live geth. I agree there is some risk, but the potential rewards are much greater. Someday your sons and daughters will thank you."_

Somehow, I doubted that very much. After a bit of puttering around, I discovered that one of the other computer terminals housed the controls for the transmission dish. A bit more puttering uncovered the appropriate command sequence. With a barely noticeable rumble, the dish began to retract. About ten seconds later, it halted, sending violent shakes throughout the building.

"_System error," _a pleasant voice announced.

Then a large face made up of large green pixels appeared on, well, just about every computer screen. A loud blast of white noise or static or something boomed out from the—no, wait. It almost seemed like some kind of language. Like it was saying something to us. Well, more like screaming. Whatever it was, it did its thing—scaring the crap out of us, by the way—before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Keelah," Tali breathed. "What was that?"

"_Damn it," _Archer cursed over the PA. _"The VI's overridden the controls. We have to stop him—he's trying to upload his program off-planet. You'll have to destroy the antennae inside the dish."_

"And we can do that... how?" I asked.

"_There's a tram on the lower level. Get to it as fast as you can!" _

Well, that wasn't as helpful as I'd wanted, but I suppose it was a start. Just as I was about to head for the exit, something caught my eye. Turning around, I noticed the camera mounted on the wall. That wasn't surprising—they were planted in every room and corridor we'd seen so far, automatically panning back and forth. Until now. Now it was definitely fixed on us. And the green glow from the camera lens indicated that it wasn't some convenient malfunction.

Great. Big Brother's watching.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. Garrus lifted his sniper rifle and aimed at the camera before reconsidering. Then he strode over to the camera, reversed his grip on the rifle and smashed it to pieces with its butt-stock.

"That's no fun," Grunt grumbled.

"Neither is running out of ammunition," Garrus replied.

"Agreed," I nodded. I wasn't sure how much of an advantage we would gain from crippling the VI's eyes one at a time, given that our path would be pretty darn obvious. Still, the VI had already hacked every geth and camera in the base, so every little bit would help. That reminded me: "Legion, can you close any connections you might have with the geth? Just in case the VI might try to use that as a weak spot to hack your... uh... your programs or whatever?"

"Shutting down remote subspace connections. Erecting additional firewalls and countermeasures."

I thought I glimpsed the VI's green pixelated face before I left the room. I _know _I saw it flicker on the overhead screen as I headed down a flight of stairs and through the door into a large room, as it howled out some more unintelligible speech.

The VI kept popping up on random screens or hijacking security cameras—the latter making itself obvious with the sudden green glow emanating from the camera lens. It also continued freaking us out by shrieking gibberish to us, usually when we smashed another camera. Apparently, the VI didn't know how to adjust the volume controls.

The automated messaging system was a lot quieter by comparison: _"This is an automated security update. Geth activity has been detected. Please remain at your workstations until the all-clear is given." _

The next room we entered was some kind of mess hall or cafeteria, judging by the automated messaging system telling us the special of the day was filet and egg salad. Somehow, I didn't think we were hungry. Or the Cerberus personnel who were lying dead on the ground. Or the geth who attacked us.

Miranda, Garrus and Kasumi managed to launch EMPs at the geth as we scattered for cover. Made taking down the geth troopers a lot easier. The destroyer that accompanied them was a bit tougher, though, not to mention—

I quickly aborted my attempt to snipe a geth and hastily ducked back down as a rocket whistled over my head. Looking up, I glared at the rocket trooper who was firing rockets from its vantage point on the second floor and shot its head off. For the first time, I noticed that its flashlight head was also glowing green. And it was bathed in a green energy field. Guess the VI had gotten its virtual hooks into these guys. Team Two managed to finish off the destroyer just as another trio of geth rushed in, only to get mowed down by a concentrated barrage of EMPs and gunfire from Team One.

Naturally, several more geth showed up and were able to find cover while we were dealing with their buddies.

Undaunted, Zaeed aimed his sniper rifle and fired a perfect headshot through a geth trooper. Garrus's shot was also dead-on, but didn't kill the geth—probably because his sniper rifle wasn't equipped with a disruptor mod. However, the shot did drain its shields, leaving it open for Tali to hack it. The hacked trooper managed to last long enough to take out another geth trooper's shields. That geth, in turn, suddenly found itself floating in the air—courtesy of Samara. It floated in the air for a brief second before Grunt's concussive round sent it flying into the wall. Meanwhile, Thane, Jacob, Mordin and Jack ganged up on the last geth, who was fatally distracted by Legion's combat drone.

Once they'd mowed it down, we quickly searched through the mess hall. We managed to scrounge up a decent amount of creds from the cash register as well as thermal clips, power cells, medi-gel and another one of Archer's logs:

"_Memo to all project personal. Congratulations on all your hard work. Tomorrow we take the next step forward. It will be a great day for Cerberus, and a greater day for humanity."_

Yes, yes. All hail Cerberus and, oh yeah, humanity. We quickly headed for the tram before we had to pledge allegiance or anything.

* * *

><p>"<em>Damn it all."<em>

We'd just gotten to the tram and activated the controls. I closed my eyes and counted to three. "Now what?" I asked at last.

"_The VI—he's aligning the dish to a new upload target! He'll have a clear line of sight to our satellite."_

"How much time do we have?"

"_I don't know. It's going to be tight."_

Well, that was informative. Guess someone had been taking lessons from TIMmy. Thankfully, the ride was almost over. The tram shuddered to a stop a minute later and we got out into the waiting area. We passed several bodies, ripped out cables and burn marks on our way to the catwalks leading from the tram station to the transmission dish.

"_Arriving at dish access," _the PA announced. _"Attention: satellite broadcast window is opening soon. All upload data must be approved by your department supervisor."_

Somehow, I didn't think the department supervisor would approve of my swiping some power cells that I found in a storage room situated near the start of the catwalk.

"Enemies!"

Of course, the department supervisor probably wouldn't have approved of geth running around loose. Especially geth with beady green eyes.

We were pretty exposed on the catwalk, with little room to take cover. Thankfully, the same went for the six or seven geth—and we outnumbered them two to one. Biotics, bullets, concussive rounds, EMPs and plasma took down one, two, three little geth. Geth number four was hacked by... eh, can't remember now, either Legion or Tali. Point was, that geth suddenly turned on its comrades and hosed them down with hot plasma. I'm sure they would have thanked us for putting them out of their misery if they could.

After we eliminated them, we stumbled across another little room. Aside from the various goodies that were lying around, we also found yet another log entry:

"_This is Project Overlord with an emergency message to Cerberus Command! We have experienced a catastrophic security failure and are requesting assistance! We—what do you mean the outgoing comms are jammed? How can it do that?" _

Gosh, it sounded like Cerberus lost control of another pet project. If only I had suspected this earlier—oh, wait. I _did_.

Heading back out, we heard the canned electronic voice repeat the earlier announcement: _"Attention: satellite broadcast window is opening soon. All upload data must be approved by your department supervisor."_

Right, right. Less looting, more shooting. Spoilsport.

Of course, there was a gaping hole along the section of the catwalk leading to the transmission dish. Of course, there was a control panel that extended a walkway to cover the gap. Of course, we ran into more geth. Four geth trotted out on another catwalk running parallel to our own; one of whom had a rocket launcher. "EMPs, biotic lifts, concussive rounds," I ordered.

Miranda, Garrus and Kasumi quickly complied, frying their shields so Jacob, Samara and Jack could yank them skyward. Then Grunt and Zaeed tagged two of them with their concussive rounds, sending them flying off into the distance so that when the biotic field keeping them aloft dissipated, they'd plummet to the ground. The remaining two were taken out the old-fashioned way. An angry shriek over the PA told us that the rogue VI probably didn't like that very much. Well, it probably wouldn't like what we were about to do eit—

"_Attention: satellite broadcast window is opening soon. All upload data must be approved by your department supervisor."_

All right, already! Give it a break, will ya? Geez!

I quickly bypassed the door and led the squad into the base of the transmission dish. It was a round, cylindrical chamber with a staircase in the centre spiralling up towards the dish itself. The chamber was cluttered with generators and cables. Plenty of things to bump into, trip over... or hide behind. The back of my neck started tingling again.

Aw, crap.

I had just enough time to say "Take cover" before the geth reared their eerily-green flashlight heads. They immediately attacked, charging towards us from two different angles, trails of green energy following behind them.

Good thing we had two teams. "Team One, priority on the geth hunter," I said. "Team Two..." I stopped, noticing the blank looks I was getting. "The invisible one," I clarified.

More blank looks.

Oh. Right.

For some reason—maybe because of my optical implants—I could sort of penetrate the geth hunter's cloak and see it. Well, I saw a big geth-shaped blur rippling as it moved, but that was better than everyone else, who apparently couldn't see them at all. "Never mind," I sighed. "Prioritize whatever can cause the most damage."

I let Team One handle the geth they could see while I pulled out my submachine gun and fired at the hunter. Had to use up a full clip to drain its shields, plus another clip to take it down with a headshot. Thankfully, there were a few thermal clips lying on the ground.

Then I paused and looked around. It seemed like the geth had decided to attack us in staggered waves, manoeuvring through the clutter at different vectors. I guess the idea was to provide as many distractions as possible, in the hopes of sneaking a few geth through to ambush us. Since Miranda and Garrus seemed to have things under control, I decided to focus on any geth who might have been unnoticed. I started with a destroyer who had its flamethrower primed and ready. I drained most of its shields with my submachine gun, switched to my sniper rifle and blew its head off.

A whistle was the only warning I received before a rocket almost took my head off. Looking up, I spotted a rocket trooper on the stairs and fired my sniper rifle again. As it sagged against the railing and slowly toppled over the side, I lowered my sniper rifle just in time to see a pair of geth troopers who'd arrived through a side entrance. Noticing that Miranda was free, I motioned for her to fire an EMP. As soon as their shields went down, I hacked one of them. I carefully let off several shots to weaken the integrity of their chassis, to the point where they wound up killing each other.

"_Attention: satellite broadcast window is opening soon. All upload data must be approved by your department supervisor."_

That was really starting to get annoying.

"Shepard! Anyone! Need assistance!" Miranda called out. I consulted my HUD to see where the targets were, only to find that my sensors had been jammed. So I used my eyeballs... optical implants... whatever. They weren't affected, so they clearly saw the geth prime marching towards us. The green energy sizzling over it made it even scarier.

Aw, crap.

Judging by the rockets flying around, there were a couple more geth in the area, including one with a rocket launcher. But we couldn't worry about that right now. If we didn't get a handle on the geth prime, we were screwed.

"Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; stagger your EMPs," I ordered. "Zaeed; tell me your weapons are still equipped with disruptor mods."

"Tell me you still got a dick."

"I'll take that as a yes," I replied without missing a beat. "Help them out and get your inferno grenades ready. Thane, Samara, Mordin; be ready to strike once the prime's shields are down. Stagger your attacks as well. Everyone—weapons free."

EMPs exploded around the prime one by one, draining its shields bit by bit. With the added help of rapid gunfire, it didn't take long before its shields dropped and we could start melting or blasting apart its armour. Sounds easy, but trust me, it wasn't. Not when the damn thing is spraying every corner with a stream of bullets and its buddy is pelting rockets left, right and centre. Somehow, we ripped apart its armour, creating a nice neat hole in its neck. Perfect target for my sniper rifle.

With the geth prime down for the count, and its head still bouncing along the floor like a basketball, the jamming field shut down. Our HUDs cleared up, promptly telling us that only two more geth were left. Without any buddies in the area, it was easy to flank them and take them out.

"_Attention: satellite broadcast window is opening soon. All upload data must be approved by your department supervisor."_

Right. Gotta hurry. We quickly ran up the stairs, barely stopping to restock on thermal clips. As I jogged onto the dish itself, I wondered how the heck I was gonna block the VI's transmissions. I didn't really know how to work with communications software.

Archer must have been monitoring our movements, because he contacted us over the PA. _"You need to destroy the support struts now. They have their own capacitors—try blowing them up!"_

Destruction of equipment and property? That I could do. There was a support strut and a console within spitting distance of the stairs. A quick tap of the controls exposed the capacitor, which only needed a single bullet to blow to smithereens.

The rogue VI let out another angry howl as the entire dish shuddered and shook. Some of us fell over while the rest of us were hard-pressed to stay on our feet.

"_Warning: Structural integrity of dish has been compromised."_

We had just helped our comrades back up when the geth attacked.

While everyone immediately took cover and returned fire, I snuck a quick peek. I could see the next strut console within a hundred metres. There was only one geth—a rocket trooper—nearby, but there were several more geth closing fast. If I didn't do something fast, things would become a lot more challenging. So I ran for it, giving orders with my HUD as I ran. The rocket trooper suddenly found itself victim to an EMP and a biotic lift. As it soared over my head, I whacked the controls, waited for the panel to retract and blew up the capacitor with another bullet.

From where I was standing—before another shake sent me to my knees—I could see another strut console. Unfortunately, there was a geth destroyer and a geth prime between me and that console, no doubt directed by the VI that was screeching at me again. Rather than fight through them, I decided to double back. No, I wasn't running away for dear life. I was just checking to see whether there was less opposition on the other side.

"_Warning: Structural integrity of dish has been compromised," _the PA announced again.

As it turned out, there were more geth loitering around the other way. Thankfully, they were comparatively weaker, so the squad was able to start taking them apart without too much difficulty. By the time I arrived, there was only a heavily damaged rocket trooper and a destroyer standing guard. I took out the former while Miranda zapped the destroyer, then I blew it up by detonating its fuel pack with a plasma round. Racing over to the strut console, I scooped up a thermal clip that was lying on the ground, slotted it into my gun while activating the console and turned the capacitor to expensive junk.

That must've been the last strut. The dish started to shake again as console after console exploded. _"You've done it!" _Archer told us over the comm. _"You've severed the link to the satellite!"_

"Glad to hear it," I replied as I walked away from the last strut console. "Now what's our—"

A sharp tingling at the back of my neck was my only warning before a large cylindrical object—possibly part of the transmission dish's antenna—crashed to the ground. If I hadn't been moving, it would have landed right on top of me. Realizing that I'd yanked my pistol out of my holster on instinct, I started to put it away before I paused and listened. Sure enough, I heard a groaning noise, one that was steadily increasing. Looking up, I saw the antenna start to buckle. Judging by the way it was leaning—

"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned.

Nope, the universe was out to get me again. I broke out into a run as the rest of the antenna toppled over. "Move!" I yelled to the squad. "The whole thing's giving way!"

We all raced towards the edge of the dish and launched ourselves into the air without a moment's hesitation. There was a brief moment of vertigo before we landed on the catwalk that had originally taken us to the dish, bouncing and somersaulting and sprawling all over the place. Getting up, we watched as the entire dish fell apart, section by section, disintegrating into a heap of flame and smoke and rubble.

Garrus shook his head in amazement. "You did it again, Shepard. Just like old times."

Tali nodded her agreement. "I'd say this is equivalent to Therum or Noveria."

"Damn," I said, impressed in spite of myself. "I'm kinda hard on buildings, aren't I?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "You're only realizing that now?"

Before I could reply, someone shouted "Over here!" Looking over, we saw Dr. Archer run towards us through all the smoke and dust.

"Now can you answer a few questions?" I demanded. "Like what is this VI, exactly? What does it have to do with the geth? What the hell is going on around here?"

"Man's reach exceeding his grasp," he replied cryptically. "Come on, I'll explain."

I had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

><p>Archer led us to another building in the complex. I walked with him to the office, motioning for the others to scout around, scrounge up whatever they could... and maybe find some caskets or coffins for all the bodies. "You have my thanks, Commander Shepard," Archer told me. "You bought us some time, though probably not much. This isn't over yet."<p>

"You're welcome," I nodded. "Now, you owe us that explanation."

"This is Project Overlord," Archer began. "An attempt to gain influence over the geth by interfacing a human mind with a VI."

Interfacing a human mind with a—oh for crying out loud. Where do these guys _get _this stuff?

"The results have been... less than satisfactory."

"Gee, ya think?" I snorted. "If this is 'less than satisfactory,' I'd hate to see what you'd call a disaster."

"You can't dismiss the entire project," Archer protested. "We did succeed, at least partially."

Looking through the window, I saw Kasumi scanning a dead Cerberus agent. I decided that I'd hate to see what he would consider a failure. I also decided it was a good thing no one else from the squad was here. The last thing I wanted was another argument getting in the way of my increasingly relevant need-to-know. Or someone deciding to smear the walls with Archer's innards.

"My brother David volunteered to serve as a test subject, but his mind couldn't handle the VI connection," Archer explained. "He's like a virus now, infecting our networks and seizing control of any technology he finds."

And eliminating any organics that get in the way, I mused, watching Miranda tally the dead we'd retrieved so far. There were a lot of coffins out there.

"It's why you had to destroy the dish. Imagine if his program got off-world."

"How does he take control of electronics?" I asked. "Maybe we can work out a countermeasure."

Archer shrugged helplessly. "This is a hybrid intelligence the likes of which I've never seen. I don't know where the man ends and the machine begins."

"So... no countermeasure."

"I wouldn't know where to start," Archer confessed.

Wonderful. "What's the worst-case scenario?"

"A technological apocalypse. Every machine, every weapon, every computer could be turned against us. If he hit the extranet, who knows where it would end."

"Don't you think you should've considered that _before _you started the experiment?" I burst out, feeling more than a little exasperation.

"We couldn't be expected to account for every outcome! Certainly not the abomination David has become. Davi..." He broke off and bowed his head for a moment. "The VI has fortified itself in the main laboratory at Atlas Station. It's in lockdown now. To enter, you need to manually override security from our facilities in the Prometheus and Vulcan Stations."

He couldn't bring himself to call the VI by his brother's name, I noted. Understandable, but still... "How does the lockdown work?" I asked instead.

Archer walked over to a large screen. Three red bars were hovering in the middle, each clearly numbered one through three. "It's a fail-safe procedure in the event of an emergency. Normally, all three project leads have to agree to cancel the lockdown."

He reached down to a handle, twisted it ninety degrees to the right and pulled it up. The top bar flashed green and split into two bars that shrank and pulled away from each other, like two doors opening up.

"I'm the only one left now," Archer said grimly. "I can give my authorization, but you'll have to manually reset the other two yourself."

"So we go to the other stations, reset the locks and then go to Atlas to stop the VI," I summarized. "What happens if I have to kill your brother?"

He slowly walked over to a chair and sat down. There was a picture propped up on the accompanying desk, showing Archer with a hand around a smaller man—David, presumably. He gazed at the picture for a while before finally saying "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Fair enough.

"Now let me ask you a question," Archer said. "Is your friend here going to be a problem?"

I followed his gaze out the window. Sure, Grunt was more than a little intimidating and Samara looked a little too serene and composed, but—oh. Right. Legion.

"If there's one geth in the galaxy who can't be brainwashed or hacked, that's the one," I replied. "Don't worry."

"I'll take your word for it."

"You do that," I said. "Now, tell me more about Project Overlord."

"We wanted to turn the geth's religious impulses into a weapon," Archer replied. "When we saw them following Saren, we realized they could be swayed. And if a proper figurehead was created—a virus with a face, if you will—the geth might be controlled."

"That's an ambitious undertaking," I said diplomatically. Sounded better than "Check your history: the quarians tried to control the geth from their inception. Didn't go so well."

"It would be the perfect weapon—victory without casualties!" Archer enthused. "We could avoid war with the geth altogether. That was the plan, anyway."

Except that Cerberus had a lousy track record with supposedly-perfect weapons. Again with history lessons that hadn't been learned. "'Best laid plans,' huh? What went wrong with the experiment?"

"David volunteered to interface with the VI to give it genuine consciousness," Archer said. "Theoretically it should have been safe, but... with artificial intelligence, there is no such thing as safe."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have attempted it," I pointed out, somehow getting my exasperation under control.

"And what if you had never attempted to find the Reapers, Commander Shepard? Where would the galaxy be then? Sometimes you have to ignore the risks."

"There's a difference between—never mind," I sighed, giving up. Clearly, pointing out the clear distinction between ignoring risks and creating them would fall on deaf ears. "Tell me about the Vulcan and Prometheus stations," I requested instead.

"Vulcan Station is our geothermal plant. It generates power for the four outposts. Prometheus Station is actually a crashed geth ship full of dormant machines. We use them for our experiments."

"Out of curiosity, what's this station called?"

"Hermes Station. It's our communications uplink with the wider galaxy... which is why the VI tried to access it. If you hadn't destroyed the dish in time, the outcome would have been catastrophic."

"And the last station? Atlas? What can you tell me about that?"

"Atlas Station is the main laboratory where all of our VI experiments take place. It's your final goal once you've overridden the lockdown. It's also where my brother... became something else."

"I'm heading out now," I finally said. "Upload the coordinates of the other stations into the Hammerhead's mainframe."

"Understood, Commander," Archer nodded. "Best of luck."

* * *

><p>Archer contacted us once we'd gotten back into the Hammerhead. <em>"Commander, the coordinates to all three stations have been uploaded per your request. It doesn't matter whether you hit Vulcan or Prometheus first, but you can't enter Atlas Station until you've overridden the lockdowns from the other two."<em>

Didn't we already cover this?

"_Also, keep an eye out for Cerberus security mechs. The VI has likely taken control of them. Archer out."_

Wonderful. More good news.

I was already steering the Hammerhead towards Vulcan Station as Archer got off the comm, something that didn't escape the squad. "Maybe it'll be easier to tackle the other stations if we hit the one that's feeding them power," I explained as I pressed down on the accelerator.

"Possible," Miranda conceded as we skimmed across a grassy knoll. "But each site will likely have backup power generators that will kick in."

"You're probably right," I admitted. "Couldn't hurt, though."

"True eno—look out!"

Miranda was trying to warn me about the rocky outcrop in our way. Tapping the Hammerhead's jump jets, I hopped—

"Gah!"

Maybe I needed a little more elevation.

"_Geographic conditions indicate an aesthetically pleasing view nearby,"_ the Hammerhead's VI informed us. _"Organic life forms may wish to take note."_

Either the VI was making a suggestion based on its programming or it was trying to tell a joke. I honestly couldn't tell. Especially since the view of the valley below us—outlined by picturesque mountains, punctuated by a thin sparkling stream and lit up by a brilliant summer's day—_was _pretty spectacular.

After taking a vid-pic, I resumed our trip towards Vulcan Station. As the Hammerhead sped over a rocky bridge, I noticed that we were less than eight hundred kilometres from our destination, so I pressed down on the accelerator. We abruptly picked up speed, whizzing over the terrain—

"Look out!"

_WHAM!_

"Mooo!"

—and running over a six-legged bovine animal. Oops.

_"Analysis: Defenseless herbivores are no match for guided missiles.__"_

Again, I couldn't tell if the VI was making a joke or not. "Technically, that animal was not an enemy," I pointed out, "so running it over doesn't count."

"Uh huh," Garrus said. For some reason, he didn't sound convinced.

"Commander, maybe you oughta slow down," Jacob suggested.

"Yeah," Grunt agreed. "Or stop so I could go back for that thing you killed. I'm hungry."

"Really?" Thane asked.

"Really. What, you want some?" Grunt offered. "There might be enough for you to have a bit. After I've eaten, anyway."

I ignored what they were saying, as a small outpost had caught my eye. Basically a small building elevated above the ground, with a ramp leading to a parking spot. As the Hammerhead got closer, I noticed some kind of object, so I turned to investigate, gently tapping on the brakes to bring us to a gentle sto—

_WHAM!_

"Ow!"

After extricating the Hammerhead off the roof, I used its probes to pick up the object. **(4)**

"_An emergency Cerberus data packet has been recovered,"_ the VI informed us. _"It contains information on Project Overlord that other research cells need to review. _**(5)**_ Be alert for more packets in the area. Five more remain."_

Oh goody. A reason to go off the beaten path while driving along the surface of a planet for a mission. Just like old times.

By this point, we had entered a large tunnel boring through the mountain range sitting between Hermes and Vulcan Station. The only illumination came from the Hammerhead's hoverjets, which might explain why I didn't see the mechs guarding the tunnel until I ran over them.

Well, that and the fact that I was re-living that moment on Therum when I barrelled through a tunnel and mowed down a couple geth. It's the little things that get you through the day.

Archer must've been tracking our movements, because he contacted us over the comm. _"Commander, this is Archer. I advise extreme caution. Vulcan Station stopped reporting in shortly after the experi-ri-ri-ri-ri..."_

His voice broke off. The Hammerhead VI piped up a second later. _"Scanning area... Analysis: VI infection present within plant machinery. Advise caution."_

No, really?

It occurred to me that the mountain I'd passed through might actually be a volcano, judging by the flow of lava that spilled over a rocky outcrop and down the slope. There wasn't much else to see, other than a building tucked next to the—waterfall? Lava-fall? Anyway, I drove down a rocky ramp, hopped over the lava and drove inside the building. The floor was packed with large circular vents that spat out enough steam to bring the Hammerhead to a jarring halt. I later learned that these vents directed excess steam from Vulcan Station before the accompanying pressure reached critical levels. Fortunately, I managed to figure out that the vents opened at regular intervals and carefully negotiated my way through them.

Unfortunately, it took several tries before I succeeded. The squad would later point that out to me for some reason.

"_Scanning area," _the VI announced as I moved through the building. "_Analysis: venting stations provide adequate velocity to enhance vehicle lift."_

Now why would I want to—ah. The rest of Vulcan Station was dead ahead, but the building we were in had no way out—unless we went up through the large skylight in the roof. Which we did, thanks to a push from the vents.

I managed to steer the Hammerhead up a steep path towards another tunnel entrance. It was guarded by an automated turret, but I was able to respond with the Hammerhead's main gun. Doesn't seem right calling something that spits out rockets a 'gun,' but it did pump them out at a fairly high rate of fire—without any heating issues, I might add. Unlike the ol' Mako or all the modern guns and their thermal clips, the Hammerhead's weapon didn't have any heat buildup whatsoever, so I could pretty much keep my thumb mashed down on the 'fire' button continuously.

There was also another quirk with the Hammerhead that distinguished it from the Mako: as I said earlier, the Hammerhead had no shields. This meant that the Hammerhead didn't exactly come out of the battle unscathed. All in all, the damage wasn't too bad. My squad mates weren't quite so cavalier, though.

"Shepard, it's a good thing the Hammerhead can repair itself," Garrus said. "I don't have time to calibrate both the Normandy's guns _and _the Hammerhead."

"It's not that bad," I dismissed.

"Shepard," Tali interrupted tensely. "The Hammerhead's on _fire_. And we don't have any omni-gel to affect any field repairs."

"It's just a small one," I grumbled. "And it's almost out."

"This is my fault," Miranda muttered. "I should have insisted that Cerberus send over some driving simulations."

"There were driving simulations?" Jacob asked.

"If there weren't, there should have been," Miranda replied.

While the squad was insulting my driving skills, I drove through the tunnel. After making a slight detour to mine some iridium, we emerged onto a cliff overlooking a huge lava-fall that spilled into a veritable river. On the other side was a cliff, with another building built on a ledge halfway up. There appeared to be a few more vents, which I could hopefully use to make my way up the cliff. Of course, first I had to make my way across the lava flow. It was a bit big for me to jump over, unfortunately.

"_Scanning area... Analysis: debris field provides adequate support for vehicle."_

That debris field would be large boulders that spilled over the lava-fall and floated down the superheated river. For the record: the VI has a funny definition of 'adequate support.' My original plan was to hop across the river, using random boulders as a stopping point. Unfortunately, the boulders succumbed to the force generated by the Hammerhead's hoverjets and sank within seconds. That meant I had to plan my route in advance, madly hop from boulder to boulder and hope for the best.

On the bright side, all the momentum I'd built up driving towards the lava at "suicidal speed" paid off in spades. Take _that, _naysayers.

Once across the river, I used the first steam vent to hop us up to the ledge where the building I spotted earlier was located. Unfortunately, the steam vent on that ledge wasn't working, so I couldn't use it to get to the top of the cliff.

"The controls for that vent must be inside that building," Kasumi suggested.

"Good idea," I approved. "Team One, we're going inside. Team Two; stay here, keep the Hammerhead warm and watch out for any surprises."

* * *

><p>For once, we weren't greeted by gunfire. Instead, an automated announcement rang out over the PA. <em>"Warning: automated controls are offline. Core systems have been compromised."<em>

Somehow, I didn't feel better.

The interior of the building looked very industrial. Plain metal walls and girders, without any paint or primer—unless you count all the rust. Stark lights burning down on us from the ceiling. Very practical and functional, without the slightest attempt to look modern or sophisticated. How very... un-Cerberus.

We headed up a ramp, turned left and promptly ran into a half-dozen LOKI mechs. I saw Legion prep their omni-tool, presumably preparing to hack one of the mechs as soon as they were vulnerable. Unfortunately for our friendly neighbourhood geth, each and every mech was shredded before they had a chance to deploy their viruses or subroutines or whatever.

Another cheerful announcement greeted us as we entered the next room. _"Warning: pressure levels in valve A3 have exceeded maximum threshold. Manual control is required."_

Right. So we needed to find a valve. Maybe this was it. I reached over and activated a console.

"_We have registered a huge spike in power consumption. My technicians traced it to the experiment underway at Atlas Station. We're trying to raise them now." _

Nope, that was an audio log. Maybe I could access the valve controls from this other console. Of course, I had to bypass the lock first. That was the only challenge. Within a minute, we were informed that my attempt to open the venting outflow was successful.

Then we had yet another heart attack as the green pixelated face of the VI popped up over every console in the room and roared at us.

Once our hearts—well, my heart—had stopped pounding, we got back into the Hammerhead, used the vents to push us up the rest of the cliff and sped along a narrow crevasse, stopping just long enough to blow up another turret and mine some iridium.

Then we ran into another large torrent of lava. Fortunately, there were more boulders floating along that we could use to hop across. Unfortunately, these boulders were just as prone to sinking as the other ones. The alarms were screaming by the time we got to the other side, probably because we'd spent the last couple seconds drifting across the surface of the lava to get to terra firma. **(6)**

Once our hearts had stopped pounding—again—we looked around. Not much to see down here, so I hopped the Hammerhead up the rock face.

"Turrets!" Mordin yelled.

"I see them."

"Shepard-Commander, enemy turrets have established target lock," Legion pointed out. "Recommend evasive manoeuvres or tactical retreat."

"I know," I insisted, dropping the Hammerhead down to a ledge a couple metres below. "Just wanted to deal some damage before we retreated. Not too much to ask, is it?"

"There is a—"

"Rhetorical question," I interrupted.

"We are not in consensus on this matter," Legion replied.

At least, I think that was what they said. "Say what?" I yelled. "I can't hear you! Alarms are going off!"

"I wonder why!" Miranda shouted.

"What was that?"

Once the Hammerhead's alarms stopped howling, I brought it back up the ledge. I was firing the main gun before the turrets even began lifting out of the ground. It took a couple more hop-n'-shoots to destroy the two turrets, but I was rewarded with some more iridium. Hopping back down and jumping up another rock face got me another stash of iridium for my trouble—which triggered a round of groans and grumbling. Something about unnecessary strip-mining and the Normandy running out of cargo space.

A few more minutes searching turned up absolutely nothing, much to the squad's relief, which suggested that it was time to head to Vulcan Station's main facility. Not that I was stalling or anything, but I really wasn't looking forward to hopping across lava again. Then I saw one of the large steam pipes. Bad news: it was on the other side of the lava. Good news: it was pretty close to our current location—a single jump would probably suffice—and it ran straight to the main facility. So that's the route I took.

Just for something different, you understand.

Speaking of something different, I decided to bring the entire squad into the facility this time. We hadn't encountered much resistance so far. Logic suggested the bulk of the bad guys at this station would be holed up in here.

At first, I thought that logic had let me down. All we got were more industrial decorations, more dead bodies and an alert to find valve D4 and open it before the pressure levels blew the whole thing. I managed to find the valve in time, mostly because it was the only way to redirect some of the superheated steam gushing between me and a datapad on the catwalk. A section of the catwalk fell apart moments after I picked it up, but not before I liberated several hundred credits.

Things had been falling apart here for some time, it seemed. There was a lot of damage here, with pipes broken, equipment smashed and catwalks that were either buried under debris or broken off for one reason or other. The only way out of here that I could see was up a flight of stairs, one that was blocked by an enormous segment of pipe. Grunt tried to lift it, to no avail. Kasumi tried to climb over it, with similar results. They were just about to try and help each other over it when I realized there was a control panel next to one of the many steam pipes running willy-nilly throughout the facility.

"Guys, move back," I called.

I waited until they were clear, then fired a shot at the panel. Sure enough, the panel exploded, taking out a chunk of the pipe. A blast of steam roared out, blowing the pipe segment off the catwalk and clearing the way for us to run up the stairs. We found ourselves on another series of catwalks. Three LOKI mechs were crouching in standby mode nearby. More interesting to me was the steam pipe control panel next to them. Indulging a hunch, I blew up the panel. The resulting explosion sent a gush of steam that sent the mechs flying all the way to the other side of the room, where they smashed against the wall.

Unfortunately, that din alerted the other synthetic guards in the area, because we were soon under attack by, well, attack drones and LOKI mechs. Miranda lit one up with an EMP—which was sufficient to blow it up. I quickly assigned attack drones to Garrus and Kasumi, while telling the others to find someone else to play with.

"One down!" Garrus cried out gleefully as 'his' drone blew up.

"Ha, ha!" Kasumi chimed in as her drone followed suit.

Grunt let out a slightly more deranged howl of joy as he ran over a hapless LOKI mech, somehow shooting up another assault drone as he charged. And the others...

...were all destroyed. Damn, were we efficient or what?

Satisfied that we'd survived another brush with certain death, we decided to move on rather than tempt fate. We jogged down more industrial-lit corridors decorated with random splashes of blood, piles of rubble and equipment with hastily-yanked-out wiring. Aside from thermal clips and the odd bit of cash, I did find an interesting log entry:

"_...received an SOS from Atlas Station. Archer has declared a project emergency! We're trying to shut down the power generators to starve the VI, but it's already hacked our automated systems! I'm ordering my people to sabotage the plant any way they can!"_

That would explain all the debris, damaged pipes and broken catwalks we'd seen so far.

I almost jumped as the VI roared again. Guess it was pissed. We quickly halted and looked around, but no one was attacking us. Yet. That pause gave me a chance to take a closer look around. The corridor we were in had windows that gave us a view of the adjoining room—a large chamber clustered with support columns, giant pipes snaking everywhere... and geth.

Of course.

Miranda and I quickly split Team One into two smaller units, designating a target for each one. Garrus and Jacob quickly followed suit. I waited to make sure everyone was clear on their assigned task before leading the assault.

The VI promptly started shrieking again, probably because LOKI mechs were dropping like flies. The few assault drones it sent in didn't do much beyond pinning us down. I wondered why the VI wasn't sending more drones in when I felt a tingling on the back of my neck. A split second later, I felt the floor vibrate. My heart sinking, I peered around the column I was hiding behind.

Sure enough, a YMIR mech was clomping down a set of stairs on the far side of the facility.

Aw, crap.

The squad didn't need me to shout out orders before firing off EMPs and bullets like they were going out of style. Unfortunately, we paid for our eagerness to rid the galaxy of another oversized mech. Garrus grunted and doubled over. Tali quickly grabbed him and yanked him down behind a large turbine before the other side of his face could get torn off. I tore my attention away from Team Two and back to the mech. It wasn't where I'd last saw him.

It was about five or six metres away from me.

I quickly unloaded the rest of my submachine gun's thermal clip in the mech's mug, noting with satisfaction that it drained the last of its shields, and ducked behind a support column. The clanking sound told me that the mech was trying to follow me around the column. I instinctively moved as well, trying to keep the column between me and the mech, just like that time on Freedom's Progress—

—except when I was playing tag on Freedom's Progress, my antics didn't expose me to weapons fire from assault drones. So much for that plan. "Guys?" I called out. "A little help?"

"Just hang on," Jacob called out.

Funny. He said that at Freedom's Progress too. "While we're young," I called back. Suddenly recalling what had happened the last time we'd had that conversation, I hastily added "Don't throw yourself into harm's way this time!"

"Right," Miranda said, hurling a sphere of biotic energy at the heavy mech. "That's Shepard's job now."

"Are you making fun of me?" I demanded, tossing some plasma at the mech.

"Of course not," Miranda replied with a straight face.

Uh huh.

While I was silently questioning Miranda's veracity, Mordin hurled another ball of plasma at the mech. Zaeed followed up with an inferno grenade, while Thane and Samara joined in with their own biotic talents. It was that last hit that cracked its armour. I hastily cloaked, pulled out my sniper rifle, quickly lined up a shot and fired.

The resulting explosion made blowing up the drones somewhat anticlimactic. But no less fun, let me assure you.

Once all the mechs and drones were down, and Garrus reassured us that he was fine, we scrounged for loot. Well, _I _scrounged for loot. The others were preoccupied with boring essentials like ammo. Putting aside the thought that I still had a long way to go with my squad mates, I searched for the control room. It didn't take long before I located it. The door was locked, of course, but I managed to bypass it. We stormed into the room, guns at the ready...

...and paused to properly assess the situation. It looked like a lone LOKI mech—under VI control, judging by the green energy crackling over it—trying to destroy the lockdown override mechanism before we could get to it. And failing miserably, judging by the way the mech gave up on its gun and started stomping on the override.

Then it noticed us. It actually jumped, lifting its hands up in surprise. The squad looked at me. I nodded. They immediately began firing, landing shots with surgical precision. It only took five shots before we blew one of its arms off. The VI considered the situation before commanding the mech to lift up its weapons arm—that is, the one holding the pistol. A single shot was all it took to blow _that _arm off. The VI assessed the situation again, concluded it was hopeless, and withdrew its control over the mech. Now in control of its own digital faculties, the mech analyzed the situation for itself, factored in its own condition and came to what I thought was a perfectly logical conclusion.

While the mech proceeded to jog around the room like a chicken, I walked over, grabbed the override control, twisted it ninety degrees and pulled. Then I looked at the display panel in front of us. With a hum, the bar marked "2" turned green and split into two smaller bars, which retracted to the sides. _"Override of Atlas Station lockdown accepted."_

The rogue VI roared in anger.

"_...a-a-a-are you receiving this-is-is? C-C-Commander Shepard, this is Dr. Archer. Please respond-d-d-d-d."_

"I hear you, Doctor," I replied, reaching up to activate the comm. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the mech had come to a halt right next to me. It was so tempting... "We've hit the override at Vulcan Station and are moving on."

I managed to resist the urge for a couple seconds more before casually lifting my pistol and blowing the mech's head off at point-blank range. Yes, I was setting a poor example for the squad by wasting a bullet unnecessarily, but it was just too tempting an opportunity to pass up.

"Shepard out." I concluded before turned to the squad. "Let's get going."

As I led the squad from the control room, I noticed Mordin tapping at his omni-tool. "Mordin?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"What're you doing?"

"Preparing medication for motion sickness."

"Oh." I walked a few steps before asking "What do you need that for?"

* * *

><p><em>(1): Readers may recall Shepard's mild frustration with Admiral Steven Hackett, who often contacted Shepard in the midst of his hunt for Saren to request his assistance on several assignments. I believe it is out of respect for Admiral Hackett that Shepard refrains from making a comparison between him and The Illusive Man.<em>

_(2): An uncharacteristic slip of the tongue for Shepard—and an understandable one, given the progression of his relationship with Ms. Lawson. _

_(3): An acronym for phrases such as "fucked up beyond all recognition," "fucked up beyond all repair" and "fucked up beyond all reason." _

_(4): The Hammerhead was equipped with a probe bay similar to the Normandy. While it obviously had a smaller range or carrying capacity, it was perfectly capable of retrieving small caches of minerals or other objects of interest._

_(5): An exaggeration, as Cerberus did not consist of that many cells. The VI likely meant to say that the research divisions of Cerberus's cells—or perhaps some research arm that reviewed the data obtained or gathered during Cerberus missions or projects—would be interested in these data packets. _

_(6): The hoverjets of the Hammerhead could only maintain a constant altitude of a metre or two. Any greater height, for the purposes of navigating over obstacles or hazards, could only be maintained for a couple seconds before they began overheating. _


	31. It All Seemed Harmless

**Chapter 21: It All Seemed Harmless**

Once we were back in the Hammerhead and away from Vulcan Station, the comm interference from the VI seemed to clear up a bit. Archer was able to contact us without any problems. _"Commander, that was a daring piece of work. Vulcan Station was a success. You still need to go to Prometheus Station and override the lockdown from there."_

Yes, yes, yes. Two stations down; two to go. "How 'bout you tell me something I _don't _know?" I asked.

"_As I said before, Prometheus Station is a crashed geth ship that provided the machines for our experiments. The people assigned there have gone silent and I can't get any readings on their status from here. It's likely the VI has activated the ship's defence shields to keep you out. Good luck."_

Great. I stomped down on the accelerator, following the GPS as we sped towards Prometheus Station. To relieve the monotony as I whipped across the terrain, I started up another song from the collection of tunes stored in my omni-tool.

"_I've been looking for a driver who's qualified.  
>So if you think that you're the one, step into my ride.<br>I'm a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine.  
>With a sunroof top and a gangster lean.<em>

"_So if you feel me, let me know, know, know.  
>Come on now, what you waiting for, for, for?<br>My engine's ready to explode, explode, exp—" _

"Oh God, I hope that won't happen."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Never mind."

"_Got you where you wanna go, if you know what I mean.  
>Got a ride that's smoother than a limousine.<br>Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights?  
>If you can, baby boy, then we can go all night."<em>

What can I say? It seemed fitting somehow. And no, I'm not referring to all the euphemisms. At least, not all of them. Anyway, it didn't take long before the Hammerhead—

"Look out!"

_WHAM!_

"Mooo!"

_"The Galactic Humanitarian Society reminds you that animals are people too."_

—turned another indigenous lifeform into road kill.

"Again?"

"Shepard!"

"Oops."

"He's gonna be the death of us all."

"_Shut up and drive (drive, drive, drive)!  
>Shut up and drive (drive, drive, drive)!" <em>**(1)**

* * *

><p>The unfounded and undeserved—well, mostly undeserved—commentary dissolved into a muted round of muttering as I drove the Hammerhead through a lush valley of rocky outcrops and grassy hills, down a canyon and off a cliff.<p>

Oh, don't look at me like that. Prometheus Station was nestled at the bottom of a valley. The fastest way to get to it was to go off a cliff and gently descend using the hover jets. As we entered the valley, I saw the geth ship—boy, it was _huge_. Mind you, any space-faring vessel would be huge compared to a dinky land vehicle. Anyway, I could see a large spherical kinetic barrier covering part of the ship—presumably the entrance. There were also four small structures stationed at equal intervals around the entrance, each protected by their own kinetic barrier. Curious, I activated the sensor array.

"_Scanning area... Analysis: generators are providing power for main shield," _the Hammerhead VI announced.

Ah. So those smaller structures were power generators. Which meant to get inside the geth ship, we'd have to take down the main shield. To take down the main shield, we'd need to destroy the generators. To destroy each generator, we'd have to take down their shields. Simple as—

"_Warning: the VI infection has assumed control of the geth cannon." _

The what? Looking up, I realized that there was an awfully big—by infantry standards—cannon poking out of the hull. One bathed in green energy. One that was turning our way. A second later, the VI superimposed a grid of red lines over the main viewscreen, highlighting a small region of the area. Specifically, the region we were hovering in.

"_Warning: we are being targeted."_

Aw, crap.

I immediately slammed my foot down on the accelerator pedal and jammed my thumb into the hover jet controls. We were all slammed back into the seats as the Hammerhead blasted away. I'd reacted just in the nick of time, as the sunlight around us was suddenly eclipsed by a fiery explosion reminiscent of a tactical nuke going off.

Looking back, I saw that the shields that used to protect one of the generators was now gone. The generator was still intact, but it was now completely unprotected. That gave me an idea. I moseyed over to the next shielded generator and waited.

"Shepard? What are you doing?"

"_Warning: geth cannon is locking on our location."_

"SHEPARD!"

I rocketed out of there, narrowly avoiding another death and drove towards the next shielded generator. Well, more like drifted sideways towards the next shielded generator, so I could use the Hammerhead's weapons to take pot-shots at one of the unshielded gener—

"_Warning: we are being targeted."_

Okay—take the shields out first, _then _worry about taking the generators out.

We continued this little dance for a couple minutes, letting the geth cannon do most of the work for us. It helped that the geth cannon took a while to recharge and even longer to swivel around to track us. Once the shields were down, I just went back the way I came, letting the cannon take out most of the now-vulnerable generators—I did manage to blow up one of them myself. Eventually, the last generator was destroyed and the main shield disintegrated in a cloud of sparks.

"_Shields disabled," _the VI announced, much to our relief. _"You may now target the geth cannon."_

Oh, goody. It didn't take long before the cannon was destroyed and we could enter the ship.

After mining a small vein of platinum and swiping a crate of refined platinum, of course.

* * *

><p>"<em>Attention, visitors: this Cerberus facility contains hazardous AI technology."<em>

Nice to see that the automated announcements weren't affected by the VI. I wasn't sure whether it was due to incompatibility or good taste.

"_You agree to assume all liability for personal injuries or death that may occur during your visit. Thank you."_

Though I was leaning towards the latter.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Good thing you disabled that thing at the Lazarus Cell, Miranda," he said.

"It was an unnecessary and annoying distraction," Miranda shrugged. "Removing it was..."

She broke off as we entered some sort of cargo hold. Dark gunmetal gray was the predominant theme, blanketing the floors, the walls and the ceilings. Pretty much like your typical starship that doesn't cater to aesthetics or artistic whimsies. The only thing that broke up the monotone colour was the blue lights that outlined the floor and a couple computer consoles on standby. **(2)** But that wasn't what silenced Miranda.

No, it was the geth prime that had caught her attention. It was hovering in the middle, displaying the green glow characteristic of VI infection. Thankfully, it was encased in an egg-shaped kinetic barrier. We hastily searched the cargo hold, keeping a close eye on the geth. Aside from a dramatic increase in our heart rates, all we found for our trouble was some equipment that could be salvaged. Plus, we stumbled across a datapad with a log entry: _"Now we just got word that Atlas Station wants a dozen more geth for the experiment. I hope a breakthrough is close." _

Spotting a ramp, I led the squad up to a second level overlooking the cargo hold. We looked around; one eye still firmly locked on the geth, the other looking for loot, doorways and geth—not necessarily in that order. Otherwise, it would have taken me a bit longer to find that second research log: _"Hanging around all these dormant machines is creepy. Like death staring at us from the shadows. I'd rather work at Vulcan Station." _

The VI picked that point to let out a mighty roar, as if responding to that log. Scared the crap out of us.

At last, we finally found another door leading out of here, so we opened it and went through. We found ourselves in a dark corridor. Strips of LEDs lining the floor and flickering ceiling light panels provided the only illumination. That and the pixelated face of the VI floating on one of the wall displays, shrieking at us again. The ship abruptly shook—maybe the crash site wasn't all that stable.

I glimpsed a medkit at the end of the hallway, so I hastened to pick it up. There was another datapad, so I thumbed it on. Sure enough, it contained another log entry: _"Lanigan just ran a simulation—if these geth wake up, there's a 98% chance that we will be dead within two minutes." _

Marvelous.

"_I'm starting to hate Lanigan."_

Understandable, I thought. The hallway had kinda hit a dead-end, aside from a door on our left. Opening it up, I saw a very steep ramp heading down, with another door at the bottom. We headed down to another level or floor. There was an open door facing us—well, it _was _open until we stepped into the corridor. Curious, I tried to open it, but it was firmly sealed shut. Power had been cut off to the door panel, so I couldn't even bypass the locking mechanism. Giving up at last, I headed left to liberate some equipment, then turned right and headed down the corridor. About halfway along the corridor, there was another open door. Before I could make a move towards it, the door magically closed itself. The VI roared again.

"Either the VI is intent on obstructing our path or we are being herded," Samara observed.

"Indeed," Thane agreed.

"Keep your eyes peeled," I ordered. Speaking of which, I spotted another datapad with a research log:_ "Halloween was yesterday. Lanigan ran around wearing spare geth parts. Spooked the shit out of everyone. Now I definitely hate him." _

I don't know. I almost found myself liking this guy. Shame he was probably dead now.

"Yeah," Jacob shuddered. "I'd find that freaky. I mean, running around like one of those geth? Uh, no offense," he added, belatedly realizing that there was a geth right with us.

"We are not offended," Legion reassured him. "We do not experience fear, but we understand how it affects you."

"Oh, _really_?" Tali challenged. "What exactly do you understand?"

"Organics do not choose to fear us," Legion replied matter-of-factly. "It is a function of your hardware."

"'A function of my hardware?'" Tali sputtered. "Now look here..."

We went down to another level while Tali and Legion debated the finer points of philosophy. As we entered another corridor, another door slammed shut in our faces. Definitely being herded, I decided. On the bright side, it brought the philosophical discussion to an abrupt end. Plus, it motivated us to explore the corridor, which meant I found some more salvage. And another research log:

"_Everything's offline. Archer declared a lockdown, but our station's already infected. What does the VI want? It keeps screaming at us—nobody understands!"_

To be honest, I was wondering about that myself. I mean, sometimes it just let out a mighty roar. Other times... it really did sound like it was trying to say something. While pondering that mystery, I led the squad into a larger room. Maybe a lab or something. Sure were a lot of computers. And debris. A lot more debris than the upper levels. Partially collapsed girders, knocked-over machines. And another log: _"The VI's closing some passages and leaving others open. It's like it's herding us. At least the geth are still dormant."_

Yeah, I'm not complaining about that. There were a lot of geth lying around in the corridors. But they were sleeping... or dormant. Or dead. So far, the whole thing was kinda gloomy. And creepy as hell. But we hadn't run across any opposition. Yet.

The VI screeched at us again, as if to remind us that it was out and on the loose. Or to say something—I was positive that it was shouting something. But what the heck was it saying? Shaking my head, I looked around, as if I might find something that could explain all this. I didn't see any translation manuals for VI to English, unfortunately. I did find a door though, so I checked it out. It led us along a small corridor that was partially submerged in water. Maybe part of the geth ship had landed and ruptured in an underground reservoir or something.

"_To all Cerberus personnel: in an effort to reduce workplace stress, music has been approved for stationwide broadcast."_

For once, I gave Cerberus the benefit of the doubt and assumed that the tinny, off-tune music that rang out was due to damaged speakers and/or audio files, rather than appallingly bad taste.

We emerged from the corridor into a hangar of some sort, bad music still assaulting our ears. To our left, up a ramp, lay a large control panel. Off in the distance on the far left lay another large control panel—probably the one with the lockdown override mechanisms judging by the oversized screen and what it was displaying. There was also a small cluster of supplies on the far right. Unfortunately, there was a large body of water between us and both locations. Mind you, there were also a set of platforms randomly situated amidst the water. If only they could be moved to form a bridge of some sort...

Then inspiration struck me. I headed up the ramp to the control panel. Sure enough, I could use it to move those platforms around. It took me a couple minutes to get the hang of it, but I managed to move them into a configuration that allowed me to access the supplies on the far right. As soon as I'd retrieved them, I moved the platforms again so I could access the lockdown override on the far left. All things considered, it was pretty easy. Even managed to lift some credits from a laptop and pick up some more medi-gel, once we'd shoved aside the geth that was lying over them.

Without any more goodies to swipe, I walked over, grabbed the override control, twisted it ninety degrees and pulled. On the display, bar number 3 turned green, split into two segments that retracted to either side—just like the other two bars. _"Override of Atlas Station lockdown accepted," _an automated voice told us.

Then the display went blank. And the back of my neck started tingling.

A face composed of green pixels appeared on the display and roared at us.

"Guys!"

We immediately turned around and followed Zaeed's finger. The geth that I'd moved earlier had gotten to its feet. Its flashlight eye was blazing a brilliant green. "And there's the catch," I sighed. "I knew this was too easy."

Grunt and Jack blew the geth to smithereens before it could do anything. "Come on," I urged. "Let's move!"

As we jogged back the way we came, the PA stirred once more. _"Hostile geth activity detected. Armed response is authorized."_

"Hear that?" Tali snorted. "Cerberus gave us permission to open fire."

"Oh thank you," Kasumi said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you_."

"That's enough," Miranda snapped.

"_Cerberus reminds all personnel that this emergency is now classified information. Disclosure to outside parties is a violation of your confidentiality agreement."_

Oh for crying out loud, I thought, wading through the water-logged corridor for the second time. Seriously?

Then we emerged into the lab again and my thoughts immediately shifted to the geth—who were all wide awake, glowing green and very, very belligerent.

"_Warning: geth nodes 7 through 14 are now active. Emergency action required."_

Without waiting for instructions—from me or the PA system—Garrus led his team right, taking cover near the wall. While they mowed down the lead geth, Team One moved to the left, found cover and opened fire on another geth.

By the time Miranda launched an EMP, the first geth was down and the second one had already lost its shields, which meant it got its circuits fried. Eh, as long as the threat was neutralized. Speaking of which, I cloaked, raised my sniper rifle and fired, the shot blasting right through the shields of another geth and taking its head off.

Ducking back down, I consulted my HUD. It looked like a couple more geth were heading our way—which I could have figured out by the gunfire ricocheting off the walls. Even more were clustering on our right, no doubt because that was the only way out. I relayed my findings to Garrus, who gave a quick nod. "Move up," he suggested. "We'll cover you."

"Right." Motioning for Team One to follow me, I jumped over my cover and ran forward. True to his word, Team Two had eliminated the geth before they might have bumped into us, allowing us to advance and take cover in preparation for the next assault. Several geth, including a pair of rocket troopers, opened fire on us. The barrage of weapons fire and rockets provided a nice distraction for the cloaked hunter who snuck on us. Well, it would have snuck up on us if my optical implants hadn't picked up the tell-tale flicker of its cloak. I quickly ordered Miranda and Kasumi to light it up with their EMPs. Thankfully, they knew better than to ask why I wanted to fire at an empty part of the room. The EMPs were still crackling over the geth hunter when I cloaked and fired my sniper rifle.

I lowered my sniper rifle just in time to see two things: the geth hunter collapsing to the ground and Team Two joining the fun. Garrus got Tali's attention just before zapping the shields on one of the rocket troopers. A second later, it started firing rockets at its fellow geth, a clear sign that Tali had hacked its systems. Looking around to find the other rocket trooper, I noticed that its shields were almost depleted. "Legion?"

"Understood, Shepard-Commander." Legion fired a couple judicious shots—just enough to collapse the rocket trooper's shields—before hacking it. Now we had two geth pelting rockets all over the place. With the added firepower, it wasn't long before the tide of battle had turned in our favour.

Once all the geth—including our temporary allies—were down for the count, I checked my HUD. Based on the readings it had been taking during our formerly-peaceful sojourn, the fastest way out of here would be up a ramp to one of the upper levels. So that's what we did. As we ascended the ramp, the PA cheerfully stirred to life once more. _"Attention: this is a geth stasis alert. Neural activity detected in nodes 1 through 6." _

We must have tripped one of those nodes, because we came under attack a few seconds later. Several more geth troopers, plus a hunter. "Garrus, Miranda, Kasumi; standby to launch EMPs at the following coordinates. Everyone else; hit your designated targets, then fire at will." I quickly assigned targets then counted down from three.

The squad opened fire in unison, taking down the geth hunter and two troopers in a matter of seconds. We smoothly moved to new targets without missing a beat, shredding their shields and synthetic bodies. Caught off guard, the remaining geth momentarily paused before retreating to cover. A moment too long, as we managed to destroy all but one of them.

"Team Two; move up," Garrus ordered. He didn't tell or suggest that Team One cover them. He didn't have to. That was why Grunt blew up the last geth with a concussive round when it tried to launch a surprise attack, and why Miranda and Kasumi zapped the shields of the geth destroyer who ran into the room, no doubt hoping to barbeque someone. Mordin managed to ignite its fuel pack and blow it up, scoring a few points for Team Two.

Not that we were keeping track. **(3)**

"_A geth outbreak has been declared. This ship is now quarantined." _

Gee, really? Ya think?

I took a second to get my bearings, only to learn that, having gone to all this trouble to go up, we now had to go back down. Typical. Stifling a groan, I trotted down a conveniently positioned piece of bulkhead and through a door. The ship was starting to shake again, panels and bulkheads crashing down throughout the corridor. If we weren't careful, we'd get pinned down.

On the bright side, all that extra debris made for great cover when the next wave of geth attacked. They came alone or in pairs, allowing us to focus our fire and quickly wipe them out. Even the hunter who tried to sneak up on us was taken down before it got too close.

"_Warning: geth neural activity increasing. Please isolate machines immediately."_

"I fear that warning is too little too late," Samara observed.

"So what?" Grunt returned with a feral grin. "That's what makes it fun!"

I decided to head up the stairs to the next level rather than offer any sort of reply, which meant I could devote more attention to the next batch of hostile geth. There were a lot of them, but the narrow corridor quickly boxed and corralled them in. Of course, it did the same to us. I quickly looked around, hoping to find something that could give us some breathing room—ah!

"Team Two, hold the fort; Team One, follow me," I ordered.

While Team Two played the part of bait, I led Team One into the adjoining set of rooms and moved into a flanking position. Taking fire from two different angles, it didn't take long before the geth were down. Peering ahead, I saw that there was a mixture of geth infantry up ahead. "Guys," I said casually, "zap one of them and hack it."

Then we just sat back, caught our breath, reloaded and watched while the geth fired on each other. When the unfortunate volunteer recovered from its out-of-body experience, Tali or Legion hacked it again and the whole merry process started over. Sure, it took a bit longer to take the geth down that way, but it was a lot more fun. For most of us—Grunt had this pout on his face for some reason.

The next level was completely clear of geth, but the back of my neck was still tingling. So I wasn't too surprised when I heard the latest update over the PA: _"Warning: geth nodes 20 through 35 are now active. Emergency action required." _

I decided not to wonder why nodes 17 through 19 were asleep at the switch. I had enough on my plate, thank you very much. That much was made crystal clear when we opened the door, re-entered the cargo bay and found it full of geth—including the geth prime who was no longer trapped in a kinetic barrier.

Two things popped out at me: one, most of the geth were down below on the ground floor; and two, the only way up to the level we were on was the ramp on the far side of the cargo bay. If we could gain control of the upper level, we'd have the high ground, which would give us a definite tactical advantage.

"Team One: we're going to clear this level of geth. Team Two; keep any more geth from making it up here."

With that decided, Team One and I started moving counter-clockwise towards whatever geth had already made it up here. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed how Team Two was faring. They seemed to be shooting at whatever targets they could find, mostly to keep the geth occupied with returning fire rather than thinking of heading up. Garrus zapped a trooper's shields, clearing the way for Zaeed to land a concussive round. They paused long enough to see that the trooper was out of their line of sight before returning to random pot-shots. In other words, they'd seize any opportunity they could get to try and destroy individual geth, but they weren't about to risk their lives to do so. Smart move, I thought.

I had to use my eyes—optical implants, whatever—to see how many geth we were facing up here, since that damn geth prime was jamming our sensors. Looked like a couple troopers and—

Ducking behind a pillar, I noted the presence of a rocket trooper by the contrails of the missile it had just fired in my general direction. "Miranda, Kasumi; you're first," I decided. "Then Legion, then Grunt."

Twin EMPs exploded, zapping both troopers. Damn—I was hoping they'd be able to hit the rocket trooper. Unfortunately, it had moved out of range just before the EMPs hit. Oh well. Legion randomly picked a trooper and hacked it. Grunt fired a concussive round at the other one. The rocket trooper started pelting rockets at our temporary ally, who quickly returned fire.

While Samara and Thane finished off the trooper Grunt had attacked, I looked down to see how Team Two was doing. From what I could tell, there was at least one or two more rocket troopers, half a dozen geth troopers—no, five after Jacob, Jack or Tali hit it with their shotgun—a geth hunter and the geth prime. Team Two seemed to be trying to keep two of the troopers from heading towards the ramp. Understandably, they didn't realize that the hunter was already halfway up.

"Garrus, drop an EMP on these coordinates," I ordered over the comm. He quickly complied, but the blast only drained about half of its shields. Part of me was expecting that, which was why I was already firing my submachine gun before the EMP went off. It only took about ten shots to deplete the rest of the shields, clearing the way for Tali to hack it. The hunter immediately turned around and opened fire on the troopers, who quickly returned fire. A couple other geth joined in, much to Team Two's delight.

Turning back to my team, I was pleased to see that the other geth trooper was down for the count. Even better, that pesky rocket trooper had lost its shields. As I watched, Kasumi decloaked behind it and send who knows how much voltage coursing through its chassis. The trooper flailed madly for a second or two before collapsing on the catwalk, shuddering and twitching.

Now we could join Team Two in their fun. Miranda carefully fired her EMP at a pair of geth troopers, one of whom was in the process of restoring its shields to offset the damage it had already taken. Grunt took a little too much glee in eliminating the damaged geth. I activated my cloak and searched for the last rocket trooper. Spotting it, I raised my sniper rifle and fired off a quick shot. I paused just long enough to see it drop before assessing the battlefield situation. None of us had taken too much damage, though a few people were hanging back to let their shields recharged. Down below, Tali was still merrily hacking the geth hunter whenever it shook off the last hack, which gave us an extra set of guns to turn on the three geth troopers, one rocket trooper and the geth prime.

"Team One, hit the last rocket trooper," I called out, keeping a close eye on my cloak. That poor sucker went down in short order. By chance, my cloak and Kasumi's omni-tool had recharged at the same time. A quick assessment of the squad indicated that Jacob and Thane were also ready, so I gave my orders and activated my cloak. While I took out one of the troopers, Kasumi overloaded another trooper's shields. Jacob encased it in a biotic levitation field and Thane detonated the field—and the geth—with his own biotics.

I saw Miranda look around, shrug and turn her EMP on the geth prime. Another glance below revealed why: the hunter was being shredded by the prime and the last trooper was hiding just below us—either out of self-preservation or some cunning tactical subroutine. Whatever the reason, she couldn't get a clear shot at the trooper, so she picked the next best target. Garrus had recharged his omni-tool by that point, so he quickly followed with an EMP of his own.

The prime finished off the hunter and turned around to see who was being so darn rude, only to receive a barrage of gunfire that wiped out its shields in a flash. Zaeed was waiting with an inferno grenade, so he managed to hurl it before Mordin and I could lift our omni-tools and launch our fireballs. Another concentrated round of bullets was enough to finish it off.

We carefully moved around the catwalk and down the ramp, cognizant of the last geth waiting for us. Turned out our caution was unwarranted—while we were busy, Tali and Legion had deployed their combat drones to take it out. Tali seemed a bit peeved that Legion had taken some of her fun.

Filing that observation away, I led the squad out of the geth ship and back to the Hammerhead.

* * *

><p>Now that we'd overridden the lockdown, we could head to Atlas Station, something that Archer reiterated over the comm. He seemed to be the sort of guy to belabour a given point to death, consciously or otherwise.<p>

Before heading over there, though, I thought I'd try and find more of those data caches.

"Hey! Not so fast, Shepard!" Jacob cried out.

"I always drive fast," I replied cheerfully. "It's the best way to avoid geth armatures and explosives."

"Too bad it doesn't help you avoid boulders," Garrus muttered.

"I'm more worried about the turrets," Miranda fretted.

"Oh, look," I said cheerfully. "Another data cache."

I won't bore you with the details on my hunt for the rest of the data caches. Suffice it to say, I found them all. Three were protected by turrets, one was guarded by a pair of YMIR mechs and the last one was completely unprotected. I managed to retrieve them all, but not without some running commentary from my squad:

"Left! LEFT!"

"LOOK OUT!"

"Do you smell smoke?"

"Shepard! Turrets!"

"Uh, huh."

"Gah!"

"Do you smell smoke?"

"Oh God! We're on fire!"

"You're gonna get us all killed!"

"Shepard! What the fuck're you doing?"

"Turrets! Turrets! TURRETS!"

"Uh, huh."

"Aaagh!"

"This wasn't part of my contract, Shepard!"

"I'm positive I smell smoke."

"Right! RIGHT!"

"We're all gonna die!"

"Uh, huh."

"Kalahira, Goddess of Oceans, Lady of the Afterlife. Guide me to your tranquil waters..."

"That's it! Game over, man! Game over!"

"Turrets to the right of them. Turrets to the left of them. Turrets in front of them volleyed and thundered..."

"LOOK OUT!"

"Uh, huh."

"Turrets firing. Very fast rate of fire. Estimated time of expiry..."

"Yeah, I'm definitely smelling smoke."

"Shepard! We're on fire! AGAIN!"

"Shepard-Commander. We have reached consensus: your driving skills endanger the integrity of the platforms under your command."

"Don't you hear those alarms?"

"LOOK OUT!"

"Sorry."

_*Blech*_

"I have just realized that there is nothing in the Code for the appropriate response to being vomited upon." **(4)**

* * *

><p>"I said I was sorry," I insisted.<p>

We had just descended into the hangar bay of Atlas Station, passing numerous scorch marks, several cracked windows and more than a few dead bodies. Everyone looked at me dubiously for some reason as they followed me out of the Hammerhead. Jacob was the last to get out; as he'd been voted as the replacement driver after the squad had all but yanked me out of the driver's seat. My efforts to veto that decision were completely ignored. Traitors.

The slights over my much-maligned driving skills were quickly swept aside when Archer contacted us over the comm. _"Looks like you're in, Commander. Good. I'm getting some troubling readings here, though. The VI is trying to upload its program directly from your location."_

"To where?" I demanded. "It's already infected everything on this planet..."

I trailed off, the answer coming to me as I uttered those last words. Miranda beat me to it: "It's trying to upload itself to the Normandy! If EDI can't keep it out—"

"_Get to the server room," _Archer urged. _"You have to shut down the core before it can-an-an-n-n-n-n..."_

Archer abruptly cut out, presumably thanks to the VI's interference, just as I'd noticed a damaged computer terminal. A quick look-over told me two things: one, it was too complex to bother taking apart for salvage; and two, there was a log entry buried in its data banks. Tapping the sluggish controls, I managed to pull it up and play it:

"_Archer log 155.2. For years, my brother's condition has been a handicap. That changed today. His autistic mind is the breakthrough I've been looking for—he can communicate with the geth!" _

Come again?

"_Such a tremendous grasp of mathematics! It seems serendipity is alive and well in the 22nd century."_

"Did Archer just say what I thought he said?" Jacob asked.

"Archer's brother and the geth bonded over math?" Kasumi shrugged.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Mordin nodded enthusiastically. "Mathematics, like science, is universal."

"We concur," Legion chimed in. "Geth speech is based on mathematical principles."

"Oh fuck that," Jack burst out. "Face it: Archer screwed over his own brother."

"We don't know that," Miranda protested. "For all we know—"

Personally, I thought the VI _deliberately _jammed the comm at that point so Archer couldn't provide any rationalization. But that would add fuel to the proverbial fire that was building around me. "Enough," I interrupted. "Server room now; debate later."

"Yes, sir."

We found ourselves moving down yet another corridor that was marred with scorch marks, blood stains and dismembered Cerberus personnel. The door at the far end was locked, but the adjoining door wasn't. At least, not until we hit the door controls to the latter. Then it opened for a brief second, abruptly closed again and locked itself. The other locked door unlocked itself and opened a second later.

Having no choice, we went through the open door and into a T-junction. To the right was a pile of debris, lots of sparks and a blazing fire. To the left was a security camera that was clearly co-opted by the VI, its green light the only source of illumination in an otherwise dark hallway. We slowly edged our way into the darkness, only to stop as the lights went on. Turned out the hallway was a ramp heading down. One with more scorch marks and dead bodies. Charming.

We had just gotten to the bottom of the ramp—which opened into another corridor—when the doors ahead of us sealed shut. The one at the end of the corridor. The one halfway along the corridor. The one a quarter of the way down the corridor. The one to the left of—you know what? Let's just say _all _of them.

"Okay," I said slowly. "Now what?"

As if the VI heard me, the three doors closest to us started locking and unlocking themselves. After a minute of random flickering, which reminded me of the last time I'd stumbled through a casino, all the holographic door controls disappeared. Then the left door opened.

Walking through, we found ourselves in a large room with several computers—a lab of sorts?—with an elevator at the far end._ "Archer log 157.8: Unless he sees results, the Illusive Man is shutting us down next week. I have no choice."_

Now _that _was a surprise. We came to a sudden halt. Again. "Did anyone touch anything?" I asked.

"It wasn't me."

"Not this time."

"Nope."

Either someone didn't want to 'fess up or the VI did that on its own. While I was pondering that, and realizing how much I preferred the former, the log entry continued playing.

"_I'm going to tap David directly into the geth neural network and see if he can influence them."_

"Say what?" I blurted out.

"Oh, fuck no!" Jack snarled.

"_The danger should be negligible. David might even enjoy it."_

I don't know why I was so shocked. Cerberus doing stupid, screwed-up things was par for the course. They did haul my ass back from the dead, after all. Lying about it wasn't a kick in the teeth, either. But to willingly volunteer your own brother? Especially one who couldn't possibly advocate for himself or give any kind of informed consent? That was just... just...

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Jack spat. "Cerberus fucks everyone, every time. Shoulda known that Archer wasn't any different."

"But to do that to his own brother?" Tali whispered. "That's horrible, even for Cerberus."

"I told you, cheerleader!" Jack hissed, building up a head of steam as she whirled on Miranda. "I _told_ you. Same shit as—"

"Enough," I broke in, despite a sudden urge to chime in. Everyone looked at me. Everyone but Miranda, I noted. "Miranda?" I piped up.

With a visible effort, Miranda blinked and tilted her head towards me.

"We're going to find the server room," I said firmly. "We're going to stop this."

"Indeed," Miranda agreed a little too calmly. "Then we're going to find Archer. I think I'd like a word with him."

Everyone took a step back involuntarily.

"Now that that's settled," I said with forced cheer, "let's start looting."

That bit of familiarity got everyone moving again. We quickly cased the area, which consisted of a bunch of damaged computers sprawled over half the room, two sets of stairs descending a metre or so to a lower level, and an elevator. After scrounging a few goodies amidst the debris, we clustered by the elevator. It was on level 0, apparently, so I hit the "Up" button.

"_Arriving at Level 2."_

The panel to the side of the elevator moved from "0" to "1" to "2," then stopped. I reached over and pressed the "Up" button again.

"_Arriving at Level 4."_

The door still didn't open. I pressed the "Up" button again.

"_Arriving at Level 6."_

Door still wasn't open. What level were we on, exactly? I hit the "Up" button again. With my fist.

"_System malfunction."_

The elevator went all the way back to Level 0. For crying out loud. "This is gonna take a while," I groaned.

My words proved to be all too prophetic. It took a lot of experimentation with the elevator controls as well as several other controls scattered throughout the room. Eventually, we got the elevator to our level—level 7, in case you were wondering. That was when a bunch of sparks started flying out at the top of the elevator doors, right where they touched each other. As we watched, those sparks started to slowly move down.

"Those doors were welded shut," I realized. "Which means someone's trying to cut their way through."

"Someone who probably isn't very friendly," Garrus grimly concluded. "Maybe we should find firing positions."

"I guess," I said as we spread out and found cover. "Just to be boring and all."

The VI... David... whatever it/he/they let out a mighty howl over the PA, just before the doors opened. A geth prime had its back to us. Several geth troopers were jammed behind it. In other words: the greatest threat was giving us a perfect target while blocking any possible return fire from itself or its comrades. I had no problem with that. Neither did anyone else, judging from the barrage of bullets and EMPs that immediately poured from the squad. The geth prime's shields practically _dissolved_. Its armour was the next to go, thanks to all the plasma and biotic energy that was flying around. I didn't actually see the geth prime—or any of the other geth—collapse, as the glare from the ricochets and tracer rounds was so darn bright. All I knew was that every single geth was down for the count and that the entire fight had only lasted a couple minutes.

The elevator ride was a lot shorter. It started off smoothly enough. We shuffled in, hit the "Down" button and watched as the elevator doors closed.

"_Arriving at Level 6."_

"This could get old very quickly," Garrus observed.

"'Could?'" Grunt snorted.

"_Arriving at Level—"_

The elevator suddenly stopped. It started climbing up. It stopped. A green pixelated face appeared. It blurted out something which seemed to end with the word "Stop." At least, it did to me. Then we started descending again.

"_Please contact facility support."_

It was then I realized that the back of my neck was tingling—and had been for some time now.

"_This elevator is not in service," _we were told, as the lights went out. As red emergency lights flickered to life, we noticed with some unease that smoke was trickling in through the doors. _"Please choose another."_

Yeah, that wasn't gonna happen any time soon, I thought ruefully as we slowly started ascending again. _"Smoke detected. Please extinguish all cigarettes. This is a non-smoking facility."_

Our ascent suddenly accelerated. We almost made it to Level 7 before we went down. And by 'down,' I mean _plummeted._ The brakes kicked in seconds before we reached Level 0, the sudden change in momentum knocking all of us over.

We hastily got to our feet as the doors opened and positively dove through, welcoming whatever we might face over the harrowing ride we'd just endured.

We found ourselves in some kind of lab. Several geth were attached to a large column or alcove that was standing right in front of us. As we stepped out of the elevator—which promptly plummeted to the bottom behind us—one of the geth detached from its slot on the alcove and collapsed. There were several other geth as well, attached to similar alcoves along the wall.

As we looked around, the VI... or David... broadcasted another audio log. "_Archer log: 168.4: I'd be lying if I said no harm could come to David. His autistic mind is as alien to me as an actual alien. Anything could happen when we plug him in. But I have to try, don't I?"_

Actually, no. No he didn't. Somehow I kept the presence of mind to indulge my usual kleptomania before leaving the room.

The adjoining corridor had a couple doors, most of which were closed. Not seeing any choice, I hit the controls to open the door in front of me. It didn't open.

Instead, the door control actually _migrated off the door_, meandering along the wall to the closest door on the left, which obligingly opened up.

"Huh," I said. "That was different."

"And disconcerting," Thane added.

"Indeed," Miranda frowned. "That room over there? The one that just opened up? That's the server room." She looked up to see all of us staring at her. "I accessed and memorized the station's schematics when we arrived here."

"A bold risk," Samara observed. I wasn't sure whether she was admonishing or complimenting her.

Miranda shrugged. "Not as risky as actually downloading the schematics."

True. I still had a bad feeling about this, though. "Well, let's head in. But stay alert."

We slowly entered the server room, half-expecting an ambush. No such thing, surprisingly enough. Just a lot of computers, which made sense. I chose the one with the largest keyboard and walked over. "Get ready," I warned. "I wouldn't be surprised if this thing summoned a Reaper."

With that out of the way, I touched the panel to bring up a command menu. As I typed away, I heard the hum of machinery. It was a steady hum, almost quiet. So why was the back of my neck tingling?

The VI's giant, green, disembodied head popped up over the console and screeched at us for a couple seconds. As it disappeared, I suddenly felt my arm tingling. Looking down, I saw a stream of green pixels gushing from the console into my omni-tool. Was it trying to hack it or...

...or...

Why did I suddenly feel so cold? It was like ice suddenly pouring through my veins, coursing through my body. Everything suddenly felt so numb. I was suddenly aware of every implant in my body, as each one abruptly flared up in a blaze of intense cold before numbing the surrounding tissues. Gradually, I started drifting away into the black void of oblivio—

_NO!_

Collapsing to the ground, I gritted my teeth and tried to fight back against the VI's attempts to hack me. As I struggled, I saw a field of orange pixels sweep over the room, replacing the floors, walls and ceilings with glowing orange wireframes and holographic circuitry. I also glimpsed a flickering image of two men leading a third one through the doors and into the corridor. Could that be the doing of whatever part of David survived? That would make sense, I suppose. Maybe David was trying to fight the VI it had been forcibly merged with. That would explain why they were helping us as much as hindering us.

With a grunt, I... I don't know how to describe it exactly. I'd been fighting or pushing back against the VI all this time. All of a sudden, I... overcame the cold pressure of its hacking attempt. Looking around, I suddenly realized that I was in the corridor again. How the heck did I get here? Maybe the VI had temporarily gained control of my motor functions. Which was really creepy if you thought about it. I mean, that VI had actually _hacked me_! Sure, it didn't completely succeed. But it had scored a victory of sorts.

If I needed further proof, all I had to do was open my eyes. The floor, walls and ceiling of the corridor was overlaid with a moving patchwork of holographic circuitry. Even my hardsuit was covered in a orange grid. And I was pretty sure I wasn't seeing things. Somehow, David or the VI—funny that I was now considering them as two separate entities—had tweaked my optical implants. This was seriously creepy. Almost as creepy as the fact that I was alone. Looking behind me, I saw that the server room door was sealed and locked. I still didn't know how I had gotten out of there, but apparently no one else from the squad had managed to follow. Which meant I was all alone.

Great.

At least the corridor was now wide open. So, without any other choice, I started walking. After a hundred metres, I hit a T-junction. Left was a dead-end. In front of me was—

The green pixelated face suddenly popped up again. _"***** ****se make it stop!"_

Oh boy. Now I could actually understand that thing. Maybe it was David. Was that what he'd been doing all this time? Yelling at us, imploring us, pleading with us to make it stop? What had Archer done to him?

I was almost relieved when the geth started firing at me. Gunfights were something infinitely simpler and easier to understand. For one thing, I didn't have to worry about coordinating any squad. It was just me, my guns, my cloak and my omni-tool.

Of course, the geth that come after me usually don't have their entire bodies glowing green. More importantly, I usually have some backup. You win some, you lose some...

Stifling a sigh, I raised my submachine gun and fired at the closest geth. Not that hard a feat, even without the experience that comes with countless unwanted firefights—it's kinda hard to miss them when their glowing green bodies stood out from the orange background like a strobe light in the dark. It only took the remainder of my thermal clip to whittle down its shields and turn the geth into...

...

Oookaaaaaayyy. I've never seen geth explode into a pile of cubical pixels before—

Gah!

I hastily ducked behind a pillar. While I'd been staring at the quickly disappearing pile of geth-turned-pixels, another pair of geth had showed up and had taken advantage of my distraction to whittle down _my _shields. Pulling up my HUD, I kept one eye on their approach while my hands switched weapons. This plan would either work really well or spell my ultimate demise. I took a deep breath and counted down from three.

On 'one,' I activated my cloak, whirled out from behind the column and raised my sniper rifle. One well-aimed headshot turned the lead geth into so many pixels. Before my cloak collapsed and the remaining geth could re-acquire its target, I charged towards it and started pounding away with my fists. I'd feel sorry for getting the drop on it like that, but I had better things to do. Like wonder how much of this was real and how much was virtual reality. Certainly I'd felt all those bullets deplete my shields and the geth who I'd used as a punching bag. And the readouts from my weapons clearly indicated that I'd used up some ammo. But I was still seeing orange circuitry float around me. And I definitely saw the geth vanish in an explosion of pixels. So how much of this was real? What was real, anyway? And why the heck did I always get sucked into pondering these big philosophical questions?

It was easier to focus on the mission, so that's what I did. Seeing that there were no more hostiles coming my way, I resumed trotting down the corridor. The only company I encountered was a pair of dead Cerberus personnel outlined in orange. And the David/VI face. I could see it through the window.

I should explain that.

There were windows in the corridor that looked into a central chamber. Tons of wires and cables snaked around the room, connecting to an orange sphere that was surrounded by a set of rotating green barriers. Above it loomed a giant head composed entirely of green pixels, staring at me with a complete lack of emotion.

Kinda creepy, if you ask me, so I quickly turned my attention back to the corridor. Unfortunately, that could only distract me for so long, since I quickly reached a dead end. Fortunately, there was a door on the right. My surroundings turned green as I hit the door control. I instinctively pulled out my submachine gun as the doors opened...

_"Square root of 906.01 is 30.1... square root of 906.01 is 30.1..."_

Um. Huh. Wasn't expecting a math lesson. Or show and tell: I'd stumbled into a lab of some sort. To my right were several green geth attached to consoles. In front of me was a more-or-less colour image of Archer. Behind him was a young man, sitting on the floor and and rocking himself back and forth, and a geth strapped down to a gurney. _"Time on this project is running out," _Archer said. It looked like he was reciting a log entry into the datapad he was holding. _"There are no options left. How to get the geth's attention?"_

As if it had heard him, the geth spoke in its usual digital chittering. Didn't mean anything to me. Nor Archer, judging by his lack of reaction. The man on the floor, on the other hand, perked up. Getting to his feet, he mimicked the geth's words. I stared at him as the geth spoke back. Unless I was mistaken, he looked like Dr. Archer's brother, David.

_"The robot says hello_," David informed his brother.

Archer turned around so fast I thought he'd give himself whiplash. He looked back and forth between David and the geth before settling on the former. _"Eureka!" _he exclaimed. _"David, you're a miracle worker!"_

Uh oh. I had a bad feeling about this.

My musings were interrupted by a somewhat guttural set of clicking. I automatically tensed up, expecting another not-so-fun fight for my life. Instead, everything turned orange again. The walls, the floors, the slumped bodies of dead people. The only things that weren't outlined or bathed in green were two shimmering clusters of green pixels. I moved over towards one of them. Nothing happened. So I reached out and passed my hand through it. I know, I know—rookie mistake. Anyone who's watched enough vids would know better. As stupid as that move might have been, it worked. The room turned green again. Holographic images of Archer and David appeared. David was on his feet, but was bobbing back and forth, almost as if he was constantly bowing to someone. _"Square root of 906.01 is 30.1… square root of 912.04 is 30.2…" _he babbled.

Archer turned around from the computer he was using. _"David, can you repeat my notes from Thursday's experiment?"_

"_Square root of 918.09 is 30.3."_

"_David! Please pay attention!"_

David winced. _"Loud! It's getting loud in here."_

Personally, I didn't think Archer was speaking or yelling that loudly. But maybe David picked up on a nuance I missed. Or he was incapable of distinguishing such nuances. Whatever the reason, Archer hastened over and patted his shoulder. _"I'm sorry," _he apologized. _"You didn't deserve that. Would you mind repeating my notes from Thursday's experiment?"_

"_Log 137.3: the experiment yielded no discernible patterns of geth obedience. End dictation now, David. Hell, the Illusive Man will have my head for this."_

"_Thank you. And how are you feeling today?"_

"_Square root of 924.16 is 30.4… earplugs would be good."_

I didn't know whether to be impressed that Archer was making an effort to keep David in his life or creeped out that he was using him as a walking backup storage device for his logs. I went to the second cluster, scooping up some power cells and palladium along the way. Waving my hand through the second cluster, I watched as everything turned green. Archer appeared again, along with David and a pair of nameless Cerberus lackeys. A geth was dangling from an overhead harness of some sort. _"David," _Archer said, _"I want you to order the geth to take a step forward."_

David obediently uttered a string of warbling clicks. The geth obediently moved its legs for a minute. _"How does he do it?" _one of the Cerberus guys marvelled.

"_David is a mathematical savant," _Archer explained, looking at David, who'd elected to sit on the floor and gently rock back and forth. _"His autistic mind can interpret the geth language at its most basic form and mimic their phonetics. With his photographic memory, cross-referencing the meaning is a snap. He's literally a human computer."_

"_And you think he can interface with the geth's neural network," _the same Cerberus guy asked.

"_I do."_

"_Is that even safe, Doctor?" _the other Cerberus guy asked, proving that not all Cerberus personnel were reckless idiots.

"_I see no harm in finding out,"_ Archer replied, proving that the vast majority were, however. Another round of guttural chattering seemed to echo that point. If I had to guess, this was David's handiwork following his forced—because it sure as hell wasn't voluntary—merger with the VI. His way of illustrating what had happened.

Looking around, I saw that the only way out of here was through a broken window and across the adjoining room. Past the three geth that were hooked up to a hub. Call me crazy, but I wasn't eager to leave enemies behind to potentially sneak up on me at the worst possible time. So I opened fire on the hub. The geth perked up and returned fire, but not before I blew up the hub. The resulting explosion sent them sprawling, making it pretty easy to pick them off.

Hopping over the windowsill, I looted whatever I could and left the lab. I found myself in yet another corridor, with a bunch of large windows overlooking that central chamber. Maybe it was my imagination, but the disembodied face seemed to be staring at me.

"_***** PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!"_

I knew I wasn't imagining that. And I definitely knew that Miranda wasn't the only one who wanted 'a word' with Dr. Archer.

At the end of a corridor was a door, blocked by a thick orange-yellow… well, tendril was the best way to describe it. At one end was a large green sphere of coruscating energy. My sensors identified it as a VI connection. I wasn't sure what that was, or what it could connect to, but I figured it wasn't something I should leave intact. I'll admit I had half a mind to riddle it with bullets, but I did have to conserve ammo. Especially since I didn't have any backup. So I attacked it with my fists until it shattered.

Yeah, violence was apparently the solution to a lot of problems. Sad, really.

The tendril vanished shortly after the VI connection blew up, leaving the way clear to open the door. A quick round of scrounging uncovered some power cells, some palladium, some salvage and a control panel for an elevator shaft that came out of the floor.

Not seeing anything else to swipe, I activated the elevator controls. I heard a lot of groaning and moaning before the elevator lift began to rise. _"Warning," _I heard over the PA, _"Elevator exceeds maximum weight capacity."_

That was probably not a good thing. Taking a closer look at the elevator, I saw a thick irregular line where the doors met. The kind of line consistent with a hasty welding job.

Aw, crap.

I ducked behind some cover as a harsh flare of sparks burst through the welding and slowly cut its way through. I was already cloaked and aiming my sniper rifle by the time the geth emerged from the floor-a hunter and two rocket troopers. One shot eliminated the hunter's shields. Quickly switching to my submachine gun, I managed to finish the hunter off before the rocket troopers' return fire blew my head off. It was times like this that made me wish I had the rest of my squad backing me up. Hell, I'd even take one or two other people, preferably with an EMP-generating omni-tool. That reminded me—I quickly hacked the rocket trooper I'd been attacking before it could regenerate its shields. It didn't last long before its partner blew it to pixels, but it lasted long enough for me to find another area of cover and take the last geth down.

With that latest encounter out of the way, I took the elevator down. Within half a minute, I found myself in the central chamber. It was illuminated in green, which meant show-and-tell time again. I saw Archer and another Cerberus operative, several computers and a sphere surrounded by rotating concentric barriers. Somewhere in the room, David was babbling _"Square root of 906.01 is 30.1... square root of 912.04 is 30.2..."_ If I squinted, I could make out…

…

I suddenly and fervently hoped that my eyes—or the damn VI hacking—were playing tricks on me.

_"We're ready," _Archer told the other. _"Open a connection to the geth network." _

The other Cerberus operative reached over and tapped a few controls. A loud whirring noise rang out before David howled_ "QUIET!"_ Then three geth appeared, weapons aimed at Archer and his brother. Two thoughts immediately came to mind. One: why would any of them think that giving the geth guns was a _good _idea? Second: this must have been when everything went to hell.

_"David, no!" _Archer yelled. _"Tell the geth to stand down!"_

_"QUIET! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!" _David yelled back.

With that, the orange hue returned to the majority of the room. _"Node acquired: Normandy SR-2 is within range." _I wondered what that meant before I saw another VI connection shimmering and twinkling as it drifted out from the sphere and along one of the tendrils. Somehow I instinctively knew that if that VI connection made it all the way to the other side of the tendril, EDI might have its hands full. Grabbing my submachine gun again, I blew it to pieces. David—or the VI—clearly didn't like that. It howled for a brief instant before the barriers rotating around the central sphere flickered and disappeared. Guess blowing that connection up wasn't good for the VI's security. Suddenly, my sensors could lock on to the sphere. Identifying the globe as a 'VI Core,' it told me that it was covered in some sort of armour. Well, that I knew how to handle. Raising my omni-tool, I fired off a round of plasma. I had enough time to fire another round before the concentric barriers came back.

_"Pull the plug!"_ Archer cried out as the room turned green again. _"Tell Vulcan Station to cut all power!"_

The response was the exact opposite of what anybody would want to hear: _"It's too late! We've lost control!"_

The room abruptly returned to its usual ersatz orange hue. Back to (virtual) reality, I guess. This time, the VI's disembodied head came along for the ride. As it loomed over me and stared at me with its lifeless eyes, the PA cheerfully announced _"Attempting to establish upload link."_

Apparently the VI had learned from its previous attempt, because it sent out two VI connection spheres. I promptly blew up the first one.

"_Connection lost." _

As I fired at the second connection, I felt several shots bounce off my shields. Looking around, I saw a geth trooper shooting at me. Guess the VI decided to spawn some bodyguards. I only managed to snap off a couple more shots before I had to eject my thermal clip. Ducking behind a pillar, I realized that serendipity was smiling on me: my hiding spot had a perfect line-of-sight to the second VI connection. Slamming a fresh thermal clip home, I raised my submachine gun and blew that connection to pieces. Pixels. Whatever.

"_David, you have to stop this!" _Archer shouted as the room briefly turned green.

"_DAVID DOESN'T WANT TO BE HERE!"_

With that, the defences around the VI core—including that pesky geth—vanished. Spying a thermal clip lying on the ground, I ran over to pick it up, launching a fireball along the way. Once again, I could only get a second round of plasma goodness off before the rotating barriers came back up. At least I managed to hit the same spot. Not sure if that kind of thing mattered in virtual reality, but maybe it would translate somehow to the real world. Whatever that was. Hopefully my aim was good enough to burn up the VI interface and not... well... who it was attached to.

_"Attempting to establish upload link."_

There were three VI connections this time, plus another geth. This time, I didn't bother worrying about it. Instead, I concentrated on the VI connections, taking care to keep the VI core between me and the geth.

"_Connection lost," _I heard just before the geth disappeared. The room turned green once more.

"_David, calm down!" _Archer urged._ "I can make all of this go away if you let me!"_

David either didn't buy it or was in too much pain to comply. _"QUIET! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!"_ he howled.

As soon as the room turned orange again, I launched another ball of plasma. I kept a close eye on my omni-tool's status as it recharged—I had to time this just right. As soon as my omni-tool was ready, I let loose another fireball, dropped my submachine rifle and pulled out my grenade launcher. Before the VI core could raise its defences, I fired a grenade.

That did it. With a final cry of _"QUIET! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!" _the core seemed to explode, sending pixels and virtual shards flying. I instinctively raised an arm to shield my face. Then I lowered it and stared at…

…

Oh God.

I barely noticed the virtual reality flickering and fading away, too preoccupied with the horror of what lay before me. Somewhere in my noggin, I remembered an old picture of acrucifixion from a Social Studies class I took way back when. It was this old, slow and painful method of execution where some poor guy—including Jesus Christ—was tied or nailed to a wooden cross and left to hang until he or she died.

What I saw before me was kinda similar. Only the 'poor guy' was stark naked and strapped into some kind of apparatus in the middle of the room, that structure being the only thing preserving any semblance of modesty. Tubes and cables of varying thicknesses weaved around and bored into his arms, legs, chest and just about every other part of his body. Two particularly large tubes were forced into his mouth. Sharp prongs dug underneath his eyelids, forcing them open. He… he stared at me helplessly, eyes filled with confusion, pain and horror beyond imagining.

That was how I found Archer's brother. That was how I found David. _"Quiet—please make it stop," _he repeated plaintively.

I took a step forward, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing.

"Wait! Commander!"

It was Archer. He ran into the chamber, hand raised to halt me. "I'm begging you," he panted, "don't do anything rash."

I whirled around to face him, body tensed with… anger? Fury? Whatever it was, it must have been reflected on my face, because he came to an abrupt halt. "Rash?" I repeated. "You mean like fooling around with the geth? Or forcing your own brother into an experiment?"

"I know how this must look, but I never intended any harm to come to him. You must believe me."

"No, actually," I replied coldly. "I don't have to believe you. The evidence says otherwise."

"It's not like I planned this," Archer tried. "It was an accident. Seeing David communicate with the geth... it all seemed harmless."

I glared at Archer. "Harmless? I saw his memories. You forced him into this nightmare. He begged you to stop, but you just kept going. How could you do that?"

"I had no choice," Archer protested. "I had deadlines to meet and the demands were incredible! The Illusive Man doesn't broker failure!"

"And what demands and deadlines did the Illusive Man deem to be so damn important?"

"I told you: to gain influence over the geth. Any war we fight with them will be bloody. I was asked to find a way to avoid that."

"Really?" I challenged. "And how's that going, huh? How many have already died for this project?"

For a moment, Archer found the floor very interesting. "More souls than will ever forgive me." Then he raised his head and looked me in the eye. "But I won't apologize for radical ideas. If my work spares a million mothers from mourning the loss of a million sons, my conscience will rest easy."

"Seems to me like your conscience has already been taking it easy," I snorted. "I mean, it must've been asleep at the switch, or thoroughly screwed up, for you to do this to your own brother?"

"Well—"

"I mean, look at him!" I continued. "David will _never _be the same."

"The damage may not be permanent. He might recover some semblance of his mind."

Did he just... oh this was just fucked up. **(5)** Small wonder that he refused to look at David. "He'll never recover anything as long as he's stuck with you—and Cerberus," I snapped. "He'll always be a lab rat."

"But a well-cared for lab rat. At least he'd still be alive."

I shook my head in disbelief. "He's not a lab rat. He's your _brother_. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Look at him, real hard, and tell me it doesn't matter that you sacrificed your brother's happiness. His innocence. Maybe even his sanity.

"LOOK AT HIM!" I yelled.

Archer jerked, but complied. David looked back—not that he had any choice in the matter. _"Square root of 906.01 equals..." _he started, his voice echoing over the comm.

"...30.1," Archer finished softly. "You're... you're right, Commander. Help me get him down."

"What?"

"What I've done to David is unethical. If he dies, it's unforgivable. Let me take care of him. Please."

Oh, _now _he found his conscience?

"_Quiet—please make it stop."_

I'd come to a decision before David spoke up. "It's too late for you to be discovering that this was beyond unethical or unforgivable. I've seen enough of your cruelty—of Cerberus's cruelty—to know that he'll never be free from it here. That's why _I'm _taking him down from there and taking him away from here."

"No!" Archer cried out immediately. "Leave him! He's too valuable!"

I don't know where he was hiding it, but he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at me. A shot rang out, striking him in the shoulder and throwing his aim off. I ducked his shot and grabbed my own pistol. Time seemed to slow down as I jabbed the muzzle into his forehead. One squeeze...

...

In the end, I pistol-whipped him instead.

"You're not worth wasting the ammo," I told him coldly. "Not today, anyway. But I'll save a bullet, just in case. You even _think_ about coming after your brother and it'll be waiting for you. _Then_ we'll see who's valuable."

Archer couldn't raise his eyes to meet me. Instead, he glanced at David. Ignoring the blood streaming from his nose, he asked "Where will you take him?"

"Some place where people can help special cases like David—minus the torture," I replied. "And if you try to track him down, they'll have strict orders to shoot you out of the sky. The Illusive Man can fire me if he doesn't like it," I added, in case this asshole wanted to play the boss card. **(6)**

With that, I turned to see who had helped me out earlier. I saw the rest of my squad, who'd obviously caught up with me. It didn't take a genius to tell who fired the shot.

Miranda was still. I don't mean not moving around or stationary. I don't mean standing in one spot and quivering. I mean _still_. Her body was stiff and rigid, positioned in a textbook shooter's pose. Her arm was fully extended. Her pistol was now aimed at Archer's head, smoke trailing from the muzzle from her last shot. Her face...

Her face.

Her face was clearly frozen in shock, a feat made more impressive by how controlled and disciplined she usually was. In public, at least. A single tear trickled down one cheek. Her eyes were shimmering with a complex dance of emotions. Surprise, shock, disgust, anger, horror, fury. And betrayal.

Definitely betrayal. **(7)**

"Garrus, Tali, Kasumi; help get David out of there," I finally ordered. "Everyone else; secure the perimeter." Reaching to my ear, I switched to the Normandy's comm channel. "Joker, this is Shepard. Mission complete, hostiles neutralized. Be advised that we'll be taking a passenger onboard. Someone who needs our help."

"Aye, aye."

As the squad moved to comply with my orders, David began talking again. He kept saying the same thing over and over. Maybe it was his way of expressing his thanks.

"_Square root of 912.04 is 30.2... it all seemed harmless..."_

Maybe he'd been so traumatized, he didn't know what else to say.

"_Square root of 912.04 is 30.2... it all seemed harmless..."_

All I know is that his words would ring in my mind for a long, long time.

"_Square root of 912.04 is 30.2... _

"_...it all seemed harmless..." _

* * *

><p><em>(1): 'Shut Up and Drive,' released by Rihanna in 2007. The choice of this song is somewhat ironic, given Shepard's demonstration of his driving skills.<em>

_(2): It is common for Alliance ships to paint floors a different colour from the walls and ceilings. This provides a point of reference for navigation in zero-gee when the artificial gravity systems are disabled or turned off—for example, during combat scenarios. It is curious to observe that geth may have adopted a similar practise. _

_(3): While Shepard never explicitly mentions this in his personal logs, he made it known to his squad that keeping track of kills was frowned upon due to the lack of professionalism such a practise displayed, the inherent difficulty of keeping an accurate tally during combat, and the increased risk of casualties—the latter of which may have been of particularly importance to him. _

_(4): I feel a certain sympathy for the harrowing ordeal that Shepard's squadmates went through. _

_(5): Shepard's use of profanity, even in private, was highly unusual. One must admit, however, that this was an unusual situation. Unusual, unethical, horrifying and highly, highly disturbing. _

_(6): Shepard took David to Jon Grissom Academy, a space station orbiting Elysium designed to teach and educate gifted children—particularly musical and mathematical prodigies. _

_(7): Readers will recall that Miranda went to great lengths to protect her sister and give her a relatively normal life. The discovery that other Cerberus operatives were not so caring towards their own relatives—and the horrors that Dr. Archer subjected his brother to—was a shock of incalculable proportions. _


	32. Requiem

**Chapter 22: Requiem**

We got David back to the Normandy without any further trouble. Jack and Grunt did a quick but thorough job of disabling all the vehicles and shuttles before we left. I think under other circumstances they would've taken their time, but they were still a bit rattled by what they'd seen here. I know I was. Plus, they were probably still reeling from the fact that it was _Miranda _who'd given the orders to trash Cerberus property. I know I was.

Dr. Chakwas had her best bedside manner firmly in place. Not that I've ever seen her with anything less. She insisted that the entire squad—except for Legion, of course—wait outside for a quick physical or something. She didn't have to, of course-she had real-time access to all the medical readouts from our hardsuits. **(1)** But I guess she wanted to be doubly sure. Mordin offered to take care of that, since he was licensed and all, but that still meant we had to wait outside in the mess hall while he looked us over one by one. Not that we were complaining—after all David had been through, the last thing he needed was a bunch of guys taking up space. But that meant we drew a lot of attention from the crew, which meant scuttlebutt spread around a lot faster than normal.

The general mood seemed to be one of stunned shock and horror. Oh, there were the few die-hards who opined that the initial intentions were good. Jacob had to set them straight—Garrus was off calibrating his guns again and Miranda was a bit subdued. Well, a lot subdued. More than a little. You know what I mean.

Once Mordin had given the green light or all-clear or whatever, we went back to do our usual thing. Which meant I did my usual rounds. Usual except for the fact that it took twice as long as it normally did, what with everything wanting to talk about the latest mission. Never had this much interest in missions before. Maybe a bit of chit-chat about the latest recruit. Or if it was a personal mission for one of the squad mates—much to my delight, everyone was acutely concerned about their well-being. Even if they were a non-human. **(2)** I know there was a lot of chatter when we bumped into the Collectors. But never as much as this mission.

Of course, this mission had provided first-hand proof of just how low Cerberus was willing to go. Kind of a cruel wake-up call. Hit everyone pretty hard. Even me—judging by all the rambling I indulged in earlier.

An uncharacteristically subdued Kelly gave me the heads-up that one member of the crew was having particular difficulty in coming to terms with this. Apparently, Miranda hadn't been reviewing or signing off on daily reports with her usual efficiency.

"You can say it," Miranda said softly when I went to see her.

"What?"

"You can say it," she repeated bitterly. "You can say you were right. That all your complaints and disapproval and opinions about Cerberus have some merit. Today, you get to say 'I told you so.'"

"Maybe today I... I don't want to," I replied.

Miranda gave me an incredulous look, opened her mouth as if to utter a retort. Then she closed it again.

"So... I was wondering..." What would be the best way to ask, I wondered. "You need a hand with any paperwork?"

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah. You know, maintenance logs, logistics stuff."

"I've got it under control."

"Oh, I know that," I reassured her. "Just wondering if you need a hand."

"Why? I just told you I have it under control. Are you doubting me now? Are you doubting my competence? Or maybe you just need another physical to check your hearing, because I said, for the third time now, that I have it under control!"

Miranda was yelling by the time she spit out that last sentence. Methinks she doth protest too much. Or protested too much. You get the idea. "I'm not doubting you," I tried.

"Oh really?" she challenged. "Because it sure looks that way to me. You come by three times every day, once per shift, like clockwork. You've _never _asked if I needed help."

"Sure I did."

"That evening review when we docked at the Citadel to get the upgrades for the Normandy doesn't count."

Oh. Um. Hmm. Think, Shepard, think—got it! "Garrus!"

"Garrus?"

"Yeah, Garrus. Command-wise, he's next in line after the two of us. 'Bout time he started learning how to handle some of the administrative stuff."

Miranda gave me another incredulous look, opened her mouth as if to utter a retort. Then she closed it again. "I suppose..." she started.

"Better for him to get some practise now as opposed to when things are really hectic," I continued, speaking as quickly as my noggin could make it up. "Might as well get Jacob in on it, too. Seriously, how much time could they possibly spend calibrating or cleaning weapons?"

"Fair enough," Miranda conceded. She pulled up a log of items that were still pending. Judging by the way her eyebrows briefly twitched, I guess she hadn't realized how behind she was. By her standards, anyway—it wasn't really a big list. She downloaded the minor stuff to a datapad and handed it to me."Thanks," I said on my way out. Miranda didn't respond.

* * *

><p>After I got out, I grabbed Garrus, pulling him out of Gunnery Control despite his protests that he wasn't finished. We headed up to meet Jacob in the Armoury. I gave them the low-down once the doors were closed.<p>

"Sounds like Miranda," Jacob once I finished my summary. "I remember this one time, shortly after we'd retrieved your... uh... body. The science staff had come to the conclusion that we wouldn't be able to revive you without some form of artificial assistance."

"You mean the implants," I said.

"Yeah," Jacob nodded. "Miranda had her heart set on putting you back just the way you were. Same organs, same tissue composition, nothing more or less than what you had before the Collectors ambushed you. The fact that that was no longer possible didn't go over too well."

"And how long did it take before she accepted that compromises were required?" Garrus frowned.

"She just needed to sleep on it," Jacob shrugged. **(3) **

"Hopefully history will repeat itself," I said. "Until then, I'll let you two take up the slack."

"Don't you want to join us?" Garrus asked innocently.

I shook my head. "And rob you of all the fun? Nah! Besides, if Miranda finds out that I did your work for you, who knows what she might think?"

Garrus may have suspected that I was angling to get out of doing extra work, but Jacob nudged him before he could open his mandibles. No doubt he felt that my concerns had some merit.

Besides, I already had extra work to do, though I didn't find that out until I got back to my quarters and saw an unread e-mail in my inbox. It was from Admiral Hackett. "What now?" I muttered as I opened it. "Yet another random mission?"

_From: Admiral Hackett_

_Commander Shepard: _

_Our scans in the Amada system have turned up something we thought you should see: the final location of the wreckage of the SSV Normandy._

_We thought this news might be important to you, but we also have an ulterior motive. The Alliance would like to honour the Normandy with a monument, to be built on the site of the ship's final resting place. We'd like to invite you to place the monument and be the first to walk on the site._

_There are still several crew members unaccounted for from the attack on the Normandy. If you find any signs of these lost crewmen, we ask that you report to the Alliance so that those heroes' families might find some closure._

_Godspeed to you, Commander._

Oh. So, not so random. **(4)**

* * *

><p>It was a cold place.<p>

Alchera, the final resting place for the Normandy and her crew, was a frigid sphere of carbon and water surrounded by a thick layer of methane and ammonia. Average temperature: -22oC. Like I said, it was cold. And bleak. And desolate. And lonely. Maybe that made it a sad and gloomy place, a wasteland that offered no comfort and solace to the living. Maybe that made it a fitting site, one as cold and bereft of life as the dead themselves.

Or maybe I should stop thinking deep thoughts and get to work. Easier to work. Less depressing.

I stepped out of the shuttle. All I could hear were the sounds of snow and ice crunching underneath my boots and the hiss of my helmet's respirator. Pulling up the sensor controls on my HUD, I set them to scan for the standard composition of metals consistent with Alliance-issue dog-tags. A beep told me there was one right behind me.

It belonged to Rosamund Draven. Rose for short. Maybe it was fitting that the first set of dog-tags I found belonged to one of the last crew members I saw before the Collectors attacked. She was always the first crew member to start a shift and the last to hit the sleeper pods, so determined to start and finish whatever job was at hand.

The sensors led me to another set of dog-tags, lying behind a metal panel with the ship's namesake stamped on it. I paused long enough to look at the sign 'Normandy' before picking up the dog-tags. Caroline Grenado. She had a thing for ancient explosives, as I recalled. Especially the ones that bore the same name as her surname.

I turned around after pocketing the dog-tags and stopped. Right in front of me was the bridge. Well, part of it. The part leading up to the cockpit, buried into a rock face. I entered that section like a traveller entering a cave. It was eerie walking past row after row of empty seats that used to be occupied with men and women, all busy with their duties in spite of Joker's constant wisecracking. At least he was still around. Unlike everyone else. I closed my eyes, trying to remember everyone who pulled shifts in here. It was hard. Joker and his smug grin kept popping up. Eventually, I gave up.

It wasn't surprising to see another set of dog-tags lying near the airlock, especially given who it belonged to. Talitha Draven—Rose's sister. She was so excited to be assigned to the same ship as her sister. And to be assigned to such a top-of-the-line vessel as the Normandy. And, well, excited in general. Excited about everything. She was the kind of woman Dr. Chakwas talked about when she said that Cerberus lacked the Alliance's enthusiasm.

Leaving the cockpit, I meandered onto a small ridge. The sensors detected another set of dog-tags hiding somewhere behind a crate that had somehow made the journey intact. I stumbled across a pack of refined eezo along the way. For once, I paused before taking it. I know I was scooping up dog-tags, but that was to return them to the families of all those who had been lost. To swipe resources with my usual kleptomania seemed, well, wrong. But then, if I didn't take it, who would? Some other thief? A prospector, perhaps? Or some grave robber who wanted to pry goodies from a crew member's cold dead hands? In the end, that's the rationalization I stuck with. Better to grab it now so anyone who made the journey here in the future would come to honour the dead, not rummage for goodies. Besides, this _was _my ship once upon a time. Yeah, that worked. I think.

I belatedly realized that five minutes had passed while I wrestled with that moral quandary. Stuffing the eezo in a pocket and absently wiping my hands against my hip, I went to the next set of dog-tags. It was underneath a crate all right. Couldn't shift it. Well, that's not true—I tried to shift it and wound up breaking it. Combination of cheap construction—still a constant after two years—debilitating cold and a little bit of muscle, I guess.

The dog-tags belonged to Carlton Tucks. Ended with an 's,' not 'er.' He always introduced himself that way, after a childhood of teachers and random strangers who thought his name was Tucker. It got to the point that he'd correct anyone—politely, of course—who mistook his name. Even admirals. Even admirals with a chip on their shoulder and an axe to grind against pricey boondoggles.

I could see a large cylinder with a 'SOS' logo stamped on its side. With a start, I realized it was the distress beacon. The one I'd launched while chatting with Kai—Alenko. That explains why it took so long for the Alliance to find this place—the distress beacon must've gotten damaged, got sucked into Alchera's gravity well and crashed before it could send off a signal.

Anyway, the next set of dog-tags was lying in the shadow of the Normandy's distress beacon. It belonged to Jamin Bakari. He was the kind of guy who could always see the bright side of things and share that insight with everyone else. The crew used to joke that he was the Normandy's unofficial morale officer.

As I pocketed Bakari's dog-tags, I glimpsed something on a rock face behind me. It wasn't another set of dog-tags. It wasn't a packet of resources. It... I trotted over, only to realize I couldn't reach it. After trying to climb it and failing to get a good grip, I headed to a nearby slope so I could double back and retrieve the object that caught my eye.

It was my old helmet. From my first hardsuit. The one I was wearing when the Collectors attacked. The visor was cracked, there were dents all over it and the red stripe was worn down. For some reason, my throat started acting funny. And my retinal implants started to flicker. Maybe I needed Mordin or Dr. Chakwas to check me out when I got back.

Then again, maybe I was reacting this way because it meant something. I hadn't worn that helmet or the accompanying hardsuit in ages. It was more or less an afterthought. Something old, battered and discarded. Something from the past. Yet it still had relevance today. It was still there. Like me.

Cradling the helmet under my arm, I started to head back. I had only taken a couple steps when I saw something else behind a couple boulders, prompting me to make a slight course correction. It was the old Normandy's CIC. Boy, that brought back memories. How much time had I spent at the galaxy map there, choosing the next place to go after Saren, complete some random mission or generally waste time? Too much time.

I wouldn't have been able to spend nearly as much time as I did if it wasn't for the efforts of the person whose dog-tags I stumbled across next. Addison Chase—the only engineer to complete training and serve aboard a starship without ever stepping foot in an engine room. Too busy completing repairs or performing maintenance throughout the ship. He preferred it, he said. Claimed the engine room gave him the heebie-jeebies. Never got a chance to find out why. And I never would.

The sensors picked up another set of dog-tags, right next to a datapad. Amazingly enough, it was still working. Most of the files had degraded beyond repair, but there were still a couple entries that were more or less recoverable:

_Entry 01*_

_[UNRECOVERABLE DATA] AA#%SKA-+-+-?/\]~!a[DATA RECOVERED]spoke to the Commander about this. I [CORRUPT] all these damned aliens aboard the Alliance's most advanced ship. I just don't trust them. Esp[UNRECOVERABLE DATA] that damned asari. And a quarian! And don't get me started on that turian. Or the damn krogan. What does Shepard think this is anyway, a zoo?_

_Entry 20_

_[UNRECOVERABLE DATA]TTHAK! %$**##)-===== #$(CE)(#[ !-=-=fk3-OS4%(# [DATA RECOVERED]with the quarian. It seems she's on some kind of journey or pilgrimage, trying to improve the lot of her home ship. I can understand that, I guess. I would[UNRECOVERABLE DATA] her to babysit my children or anything, but if she has to be on board, I suppose that's not too bad._

_Entry 3**_

_[UNRECOVERABLE DATA]#########%%[#())faerlkj2!222* {)#!==11!13$$[DATA RECOVERED]for a while now, and I'm taking a look back at past entries in this journal. I [UNRECOVERABLE DATA] how blind I was at the time. I came on this ship firmly believing humanity was on its own in the galaxy. [CORRUPT] Shepard brought all these aliens on board, and there's no way we could have accomplished what we did without them. I am proud to say [CORRUPT] die for any member of this crew, regardless of what world they were born on._

Before I picked up Pressly's dog-tags, I downloaded the contents of the datapad to my omni-tool. In my mind's eye, I could picture my old XO saluting me.

I stood to attention and returned the salute.

* * *

><p>As I left the remnants of the CIC, I stumbled across Harvey J Gladstone's dog-tags. What his middle initial stood for was always a mystery amongst the crew, since it wasn't actually spelled out on his resume. Didn't help that he kept changing it. One day, he'd say it stood for Jim; the next, James. Or Jeffrey. Or Jeremiah. Little did anybody know that I found out his actual middle name just before we'd hit Eden Prime. I never let on, though. Poor guy had it rough enough without the crew finding out that 'J' stood for Josephine.<p>

I would have headed over to the next place I visited even if there wasn't a set of dog-tags nearby. After the fun I'd had piloting the Hammerhead, how could I not look at the Mako with some degree of nostalgia. It had stubbornly scaled mountains and blithely hurled itself off cliffs. It had artfully dodged armature attacks and gleefully driven over geth rocket troopers. It had borne the slings and arrows of mass accelerator rounds and intergalactic physics to get us to—and through—the Conduit. The only time that it was damaged beyond Garrus's ability to repair. The Alliance had arranged to have it fixed before we shipped out to go geth hunting. I never had a chance to drive her again before the Collectors attacked.

And here it was. It went through a space battle that saw the destruction of the Normandy and the death of twenty men and women. It went through an uncontrolled atmospheric entry. And it had emerged from that adventure... completely intact. Not a single hole, dent or scratch. Unbelievable.

It wasn't surprising that Silas Crosby's final resting place was near the Mako. He always thought that the Mako was the last nod by the Alliance to the great vehicles of the past. He'd go on and on about how fast they could go, what kind of parts they had, what colours they came in, which famous people drove them, how great they were, how they were icons of a bygone era and on and on and on. I still remember Garrus stumbling up to me after a marathon session with Silas, nursing one heck of a headache and plaintively asking me why a Ferrari was so darn important.

If it wasn't for the fact that Garrus's DNA was coiled in the wrong direction, he could have made use of one of Germeen Barrett's home remedies. As I scooped up her dog-tags, just before heading over to scoop some eezo, I remembered how she'd always return from shore leave with armfuls of berries and leaves and roots. She seemed to spend a third of her time working, a third of her time treating minor maladies and the other third debating the merits of various naturopathic and traditional treatments with Dr. Chakwas.

My feet next took me along a narrow ice path, with a large glacial wall on one side and a dizzying drop on the other. I guess I wasn't surprised to see Hector Emerson's dog-tags at the end of the path. He was always quiet and shy. Never liked crowds. Give him a task to do and he'd complete it with time to spare. Ask him to indulge in a spot of idle chit-chat and he'd clam up in a split second. I always knew that the easiest way to find him was to figure out where everyone else was and head in the opposite direction.

As I retraced my steps, I saw part of Deck Two. The corridor that housed the sleeper pods, to be exact. I walked between them, remembering all the people I saw enter them for their time with the Sandman or exit them for another day of work. Orden LaFlamme's dog-tags were dangling from one of them, right next to the dream catcher that he'd hang up on the sleeper pod's lid. Apparently, it was a gift from his girlfriend to give him sweet dreams. When asked, he'd always say that he dreamt of dates and vacations spent with his girlfriend, so of course it worked.

The next set of dog-tags I stumbled across belonged to Helen M. Lowe, one of the best cooks and repositories of Chinese superstition I'd ever met. When she wasn't making the best _dim sum _you'd ever eaten, she was re-telling her story about how happy she was to have a string of eights in her Alliance ID, since it was considered a lucky number. Something about phonetics and rhyming with the Chinese word for lucky. I could never remember, usually because I was too busy savouring her _haa gow_.

Still remembering those tasty dishes, it was a while before I realized where I was. The remains of the garage. Where Ashley would work. She was always ready to clean yet another dozen weapons that I'd acquired from the latest mission, even if I'd sell most of them for credits. Always ready for a chat about her family or to quote some stirring bit of poetry. Always ready for another mission, no matter how mundane or how dangerous. Always ready to do her duty, right to the bitter end.

I was so caught up in remembering Ashley, I almost missed another set of dog-tags. They belonged to Alexei Dubyansky. Scuttlebutt said he'd had a crush on Ashley from the moment she dragged my unconscious ass back to the Normandy. If memory serves, he was hoping to put the moves on her using everything he learned from the university degree he'd completed in the midst of Basic training. His degree in English literature, not Russian—he learned enough of that at home, thank you very much.

Walking out of the garage and through the snow, I noted how some of the Normandy's wreckage formed a nice little arch. Dunno why I noticed it. While pondering the reason why it might've stuck out, I saw yet another set of dog-tags. Raymond Tanaka. One of the reasons he'd signed up was so the Alliance could help him pay his tuition. He was hoping to become a teacher, though he'd recently adjusted his goals to becoming a science instructor for Basic trainees. Funny how plans change.

Robert Felawa was the next guy I stumbled across. Or over. You get the idea. As I picked up his dog-tags, I couldn't help but grin at the ace of spades that was etched on the side. Strictly non-regulation, but totally in character with the old Normandy's most avid poker player. He'd always organize a game every week or so. I never had a chance to play with, or against him, myself. Some stupid mission or last-minute assignment would always come up.

At this point, I realized I was sort of backtracking. Or going in circles, since the Mako was in front of me again. Mind you, I stumbled across another set of dog-tags, so maybe I wasn't wasting my time after all. These dog-tags belonged to Amina Waaberi. Her family owned a restaurant chain, as I recalled. A very popular and rapidly expanding restaurant chain. As I recalled, Amina signed up because she wanted to make a life for herself that had nothing to do with the family business. Planning new meals and serving them? Accounting? Planning the latest expansion? Not for her, thank you very much.

And then there was Marcus Grieco. Five foot nine, bulging muscles, shiny smile. Perfectly professional, competent and courteous—as long as he was on a ship. Let him off a ship and he'd make a bee-line for the nearest bar or pub, where he'd try and pick up 'chicks.' Human, asari, he wasn't picky. 'Open-minded,' he said. Though he never had any luck picking up salarian or turian women—for some reason, he could never find any. Mind you, he had exceptionally poor luck flirting with human or asari women as well.

I looked around, trying to see where I hadn't gone yet. Then I saw something that I had to check out. On my way, I found a set of dog-tags belonging to Monica Negulesco. Crack shot with the assault rifle and amateur vid-buff. She would always keep up to date with minutiae like what some actor was currently doing, what writer or director was attached to what project, what themes were being explored in some vid. Her way to decompress when the reality of life in the Alliance—or the galaxy—got a bit much, she said.

Before I grabbed the next set of dog-tags, I had to take a moment and look at what had caught my eye. It was a large piece of hull plating with the Normandy's name on it. Gazing on that segment of alloy plating, it brought back so many memories. How I felt when I first saw her. When I first stepped foot on her decks. When I first saw her docked in the Citadel with the Serpent Nebula off in the distance. When I walked her halls as CO rather than XO. The Normandy was hardly my first ship—I'd been on my fair share of ships during my life, even before joining the Alliance. But after everything we'd been through, all the insane and harrowing adventures and death-defying encounters we'd endured... I couldn't help but think that the Normandy stood out from the rest. Even the new Normandy—with its bigger size, more luxurious touches and fancier tech—couldn't quite compare. There would never be another SSV Normandy SR-1.

It was with a bout of—loneliness? Homesickness? I dunno—that I retrieved Abishek Pakti's dog-tags. Avid extranet gamer. Loved exploring the extranet sites for news on the latest games. Mainly role-playing games—it seemed first-person shooters didn't really thrill him after a career spent doing the real thing. He was really excited about some massively multiplayer online role-playing game that was in the works. What was it called again? Everquest? EVE Online? World of Warcraft? Galaxy of Fantasy. That was it.

That left one more set of dog-tags to find. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes. I knew who they belonged to even before picking them up to read the ID. Mandira Rahman—the only scientist who habitually carried a small sketchpad and a set of charcoal sticks. Whenever things got slow, or she was off duty, the odds were good that she'd be chatting and joking with her colleagues while whipping off another 'Rahman original.' Mostly portraits, though she did the odd caricature. I still remember the one she made of her new CO—beady eyes, wearing a mask and a black-and-white striped outfit, rummaging through a crate. **(5)**

Then that was it. Area explored, dog-tags retrieved. Only thing left to do was find a place to put the monument.

And I knew just the place.

* * *

><p>I stood up, brushed some snow off my gloves and stepped back.<p>

The monument itself was gold in colour and roughly two metres tall. A miniature version of the Normandy was attached to a curved pillar, marked with the names of every man and woman who'd lost their lives two years ago, which in turn connected to a cylindrical base. The whole thing looked like the Normandy was taking off from the ground and swooping through the air. All in all, I couldn't think of a better design. It just felt right.

It was for a similar reason that I put the monument next to the hull plating that bore the Normandy's name. I could have put it somewhere else. Near the centre of the wreckage wouldn't be wrong. Next to the Mako would certainly convey that sense of endurance and defiance. But putting it next to the name Normandy? Again, it just felt right.

I exhaled in satisfaction and... was surprised at how, well, lighter I felt. As cliched as it sounded, I really did feel like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I guess I never really had a chance to grieve for everyone who'd been lost, having hit the ground running as soon as I woke up from my two-year nap. And, well, maybe I'd been lugging around a bit of guilt that I couldn't have done more—because there really was nothing I could have done to change things.

As I walked back to the shuttle, my eyes drifted skyward—wow. My eyes widened as I came to an abrupt halt. The sky above me was crystal clear, offering a stunning view of the stars. They were twinkling—or blazing—with an intensity you don't often see these days. Not unless you're on some uninhabited planet or colony world, of course. A shooting star would fly by every couple seconds, making it very tempting for even jaded old fogies like me to wanna make a wish. And to top things off, it looked like the Aurora Borealis and Aurora Australis got together, had a whack load of kids and grandkids and sent them over to Alchera to brighten the night sky with hues of green and blue and violet.

Huh. Maybe this wasn't such a bad resting place for the Normandy and her fallen after all.

* * *

><p>"Kodiak 1 to Normandy," I called out over the comm as soon as I'd taken off. "Mission complete. We can head off as soon as I've returned."<p>

_"Actually, that isn't quite accurate," _Miranda responded, much to my surprise.

"Oh?"

_"Word's spread throughout the ship of what you were doing and you're not the only one who would like to take the opportunity to pay their respects."_

Well, that was very thoughtful. "Okay," I shrugged. "Who wants to head down?"

_"Everyone."_

"Everyone?" I repeated.

_"That's right. The entire crew. I've taken the liberty of setting up a schedule. The first contingent is already assembled outside the cargo bay and is awaiting your arrival."_

I had to take a moment before acknowledging and signing off. For some reason, there was this tickle in my throat. And my retinal implants started malfunctioning. Again.

When I got back, I quickly flew through the post-flight procedures as the cargo bay repressurized. Then I stepped outside to see who had received the honour of heading down first.

Garrus, Tali, Joker and Dr. Chakwas stood before me. I felt a smile spread across my face.

What can I say? It just felt right.

* * *

><p>I paid close attention to the various crew members during my rounds. They were still quiet, but it seemed like their shock and horror had been replaced with a solemn introspection. A few people looked like they felt the way I did after erecting the Normandy monument. It seemed like this impromptu memorial was good for the crew as well, and I said as much to Miranda when I saw her that night.<p>

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, "though I can't take credit for it. The urge to pay respects just... emerged spontaneously and grew from there."

"Well you can take credit for organizing the trips," I reminded her.

"I suppose so."

There was a moment of silence as Miranda signed off on more reports and I... twiddled my thumbs. I was about to start wiggling my toes when—

"I wanted to... to apologize for my outburst earlier."

"It's understandable," I said. "You were upset."

"No, that's... well, yes I was, but..." Miranda paused, trying to find the right words. "I've never been upset for that particular reason."

"That particular reason being..."

"Upset at Cerberus for letting things get that far."

"Ah."

"No, that's not entirely accurate," Miranda corrected herself. "I guess I had some doubts when I saw firsthand the conditions that Jack was subjected to at the Teltin facility. Even though they had gone rogue and the Illusive Man was shutting them down, it didn't sit right. But what I saw at Project Overlord? What Dr. Archer did? To his own _brother_? I've never felt so... so... disgusted. Sick. _Horrified."_

"It was certainly disturbing, to say the least," I agreed.

"The Illusive Man's follow-up to my report hardly helped," she added, pulling up the e-mail for my perusal:

_From: Illusive Man_

_Miranda:_

_I understand Shepard has taken Dr. Archer's brother to Grissom Academy. I'm familiar with their work; it should be a good home for him. I don't condone Dr. Archer's actions, but they did provide a breakthrough we've been sorely lacking thus far. We'll likely never find another individual with David's unique talents. Though Shepard's decision is understandable, it has set our efforts to understand the geth back several years._

_You may need to take more overt action should his shortsightedness continue to jeopardize our long-term goals._

"Gosh, I feel so bad," my mouth said before my brain could tell it that sarcasm might not be the smart choice right now.

Thankfully, Miranda was in a similar state of mind. "Agreed," was all she said.

Then there was another long pause.

"After seeing that e-mail, I started going through your official reports again." Miranda shook her head before continuing. "One 'rogue' incident, however upsetting, might be underst... well, it could be a horrific outlier. Two, not so much. But the same pattern kept popping up. When we let the rachni escape from Argos Rho and spread all the way to the Styx Theta cluster. When we deliberately turned the Chasca colony into husks. When we lured Alliance marines into an ambush at Akuze and performed experiments on the survivors..."

"Like you said, there's a definite pattern," I replied diplomatically.

"But not one that I signed up for," Miranda burst out. "At least, I didn't think that was what I was signing up for. I was so sure that Cerberus would promote humanity in a more effective way than all the kowtowing of the Alliance. To improve humanity's position in galactic affairs without unnecessary compromises. To make the universe a better place without cutting through reams of red tape. I never imagined that would involve injecting marines with thresher maw venom. Or conducting cruel and barbaric experiments on children. On _siblings_. That wasn't what I signed up for. But that's what I got.

"So if I was so terribly wrong about that, what else was I wrong about? What choices did I make under false assumptions? What actions did I choose under false pretences? I don't know have the answers to those questions anymore. I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know who I _am." _

Boy, that was tough. To have everything you stood for swept away, just like that? It wasn't fun, let me tell you. I went through the same thing when it seemed like the Alliance and TPTB had turned their backs on me. The latter wasn't so surprising: it wasn't like they were a ton of help and support before. But to have the Alliance declare me persona non grata? Yeah, that hurt.

Unfortunately, I couldn't use that experience to help Miranda. Call me crazy, but "Bury your head in work, plug your ears and sing off-key really loud" probably wasn't the sort of advice she was looking for. But that was all I had, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Miranda was looking at me like she was expecting some sage advice. Or advice. Or a response, at least. Time to wing it and see what happens.

"A teacher of mine once said that not having the answers was a good thing," I started, "because it meant you had to start asking questions. Maybe you could do that."

"Ask questions?"

"Yeah. We'll start with the basics. What's your name?"

"Miranda Lisa Lawson," she replied slowly.

"What's your gender?"

"Female."

"What's the colour of your hair?"

"Seriously?"

"Okay, we'll move to something a bit more complicated. How many members are currently serving on the Normandy?"

Miranda started to scowl after a couple more basic questions. Time to jump to something more complicated. "What was the other reason for your joining Cerberus?"

"What?"

"Just before we went to Illium, you asked me to come see you. You gave another reason for joining Cerberus."

"To rescue my sister," Miranda nodded. "To give her a chance at a normal life."

"And did she get that normal life?"

"It appears that way."

"Did she seem happy?"

"Well, yes. Yes, she did."

I spread my hands. "That's a start at least."

"Is it?"

"Well, you know a little bit about yourself now. You're Miranda Lisa Lawson. You're a woman—"

"I'm glad to see you noticed that after several months," she interrupted dryly.

"—and you're the one who passed up a chance for a normal and happy life so your sister could have it instead." **(6) **

Something in Miranda's face seemed to soften at that point. "Thank you, Shepard. It's good to know that at least two good things came out of my association with Cerberus."

"Two?" I frowned. "You're counting a normal life and a happy life for your sister as two things?"

Miranda shook her head. "No, that's one. The other one is… working with and getting to know… you."

For the third time that day, my throat and retinal implants started acting up.

"How are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"David—and the VI—appeared to, well, hack you. Or gain temporary control over your motor functions. How are you doing?"

"Mordin gave me a clean bill of health," I shrugged.

"Yes, I know you passed your physical, but how are you doing psychologically?" Miranda insisted.

"I… I don't know," I admitted. "Haven't had a chance to think about it. It felt weird when the VI, well, hacked me. Weird and creepy. It was as if someone was pouring ice water into my veins and shutting down—no, that's not quite right. It was like my body was growing numb and distant, pulling away from me bit by bit. I swear I could count every implant wedged into my body, helping that… that loss of control. But the funny thing is: I don't feel weirded out at all. Shouldn't I feel weird? Or disturbed? Helpless? Violated? Because I don't." **(7)**

"It is a bit early. Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet," Miranda suggested.

"Great. Something else to look forward to."

"Mind you, you did resist the hacking attempt," she added. "By your account, the only lasting effect was the virtual reality overlay on your visual feeds. Maybe you don't feel helpless because you did resist and fight back. With a fair amount of success, I might add."

"I like the sound of that option," I admitted.

"Otherwise, you're feeling fine? You're sure you aren't suffering any ill effects?" Miranda continued.

"Yes, I feel fine. The VI's gone. No more tampering. No more visual tricks. Everything's back to normal." I tapped a finger against my forehead. "There's nothing going on in here right now."

It wasn't until I finished that last sentence that I realized what I had just said. I glanced at Miranda. The corner of her mouth was twitching ever so slightly. "Too easy," she murmured.

"How, uh, how did Garrus and Jacob do with the paperwork?" I managed to stammer out before Miranda could have any more fun at my expense.

"Could be better," Miranda said, "but there wasn't any template or SOP for them to follow. I should probably create one, come to think of it. Like you said earlier, they may have to do that sort of thing again."

"Sounds like a good idea," I approved. "If you want, you can give me the remaining administrative stuff to finish off so you can work on that?"

"I'll download it to a datapad for you," she nodded. "While I'm doing that, why don't you head over to the mess hall and grab something for us?"

"Sure." I mentally recalled what Gardner had served today. "How does jasmine teaand tapioca pudding sound?"

"Perfect."

* * *

><p><em>(1): Standard practise for the resident chief medical officer whenever a team or squad goes on a dangerous assignment. <em>

_(2): It is not surprising that such close-knit ties developed, despite any pre-existing prejudice or xenophobia, given the high stakes of their overall mission and the low probability of their survival. _

_(3): Mr. Taylor neglects to mention that this sleep was preceded by a talk between him and Ms. Lawson. _

_(4): Given Shepard's past associations with monuments, the fact that he had so little reaction to this one may be surprising. I can only surmise that he was still coming to terms with everything he witnessed and experienced during the Overlord Cell mission. In addition, it is worth noting that this monument was for the men and women who had lost their lives when the original Normandy was destroyed, not himself. Shepard may have felt that their sacrifice deserved greater recognition than his own accomplishments ever did._

_(5): Lieutenant Rahman actually made a second portrait, which was lost during the Collector attack. It was later retrieved, however, and anonymously sent to Captain Hannah Shepard._

_(6): Not surprisingly, Shepard's talent for improvisation paid off once again. _

_(7): Readers are well aware of Shepard's reticence to admit any feelings of vulnerability to himself, much less to others. The fact that he is willing to do so with Ms. Lawson is quite significant._


	33. Personnel Report: Legion

_Author's Note: I'd like to thank **chris dee** for creating the images that accompany Accidental Hero of the Galaxy and The Hero We Deserve. She volunteered to undertake this creative endeavour, and was receptive to making any changes I requested, without demanding anything in return. The results, I have to say, are nothing short of spectacular._

_Additional thanks go to **Toumeihi** and an anonymous **Guest **for pointing out that Joram Talid was talking about the Battle for the Citadel, not the First Contact War/Relay 314 Incident, in Chapter 29—a fact that the in-game dialogue and the eternally useful ME wiki seems to support. I've since gone back and made the necessary revisions to the footnote._

_Now that I've given credit where credit is due, I'll turn things over to Anderson._

* * *

><p><em>Editorial Note: This personnel report focuses on one of Shepard's most unique squadmates. I leave it to the reader to decide which was more informative: the mission that Shepard inevitably went on or the insights gained during his conversations. <em>

**Personnel Report—Legion**

The idea of working with an enemy isn't a new one. Have a conversation with a guy, read a mission report or pull up a historical record and you'll soon find out how common it really is. Humans working with turians. Cops working with criminals. Americans working with Russians. It was always weird, to put it mildly. The idea of working with the enemy instead of trying to take them out seemed wrong on so many levels. But all it took was a start to get over that insurmountable obstacle. Sometimes that start was a common enemy or mutually beneficial goal. Sometimes it was a greater threat. Sometimes it was the realization that maybe, just maybe, they had something in common after all.

Of course, none of those situations could possibly imagine a scenario as far-fetched as an organic working with a geth. And yet, that was the scenario I found myself in. Story of my life, I know. So I coped with it, the same way I coped with any situation.

"I have questions about the geth." **(1)**

"Specify," Legion stated.

It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know what to ask. What did people usually ask when meeting a new culture or species? In the vids, someone always spouted a cheesy line like 'Take me to your leader.' Aha! "How are geth organized?" I asked. "Do you guys have a government?"

"Not as you understand," Legion replied. "We are all geth. We build consensus."

I scratched my head in confusion. "What does that mean? Most governments do that anyway."

"Organic governments impose consensus," Legion corrected. "From a single point of view in autocracies. By codifying the most broadly acceptable average of views in democracies."

"So what do the geth do that makes it different?"

"Data is shared between geth. All viewpoints are considered. Consensus is achieved as data is disseminated."

"But that's what we do..." I stopped as I realized what Legion was saying. "Wait, you mean _all _data? You share every bit of data from _every _geth and _then _come to a decision that _everyone _can agree upon?"

"Yes."

My mind reeled as I tried to picture any organic government doing that. I just couldn't fathom the idea. It would never work without the whole arrangement breaking down or time running out. "That would take forever!" I finally sputtered.

"It would for organics," Legion replied. "We communicate at the speed of light."

Oh. Didn't think of that. "I guess that would make things go a lot faster," I admitted. "That must be one heck of a conversation. Not that I would be able to understand it. Hell, I'm surprised I can understand you. The geth I fought before never spoke like you do. They just ran around shooting at me or making a stuttering noise."

"We prefer direct digital transfer at light speed," Legion explained. "Human hardware does not support this method. However, our consensus is that you would not submit to the necessary hardware upgrades required for digital transmission. Therefore, we have resorted to your analog aural communication, with allowances for any inefficiencies inherent in this format."

I had to remind myself that Legion was incapable of offering insults. At least, it—or they—were incapable of _consciously _offering insults. "Well, since your hardware is capable of... analog aural communication, maybe you can continue providing some answers."

"Specify."

Legion really did like these one-word statements, I noted. "Did Sovereign contact the geth or did you seek it out?"

"Nazara—the entity you called Sovereign—signalled us. Like the geth, the Old Machine listened to organic comm transmissions. It knew of our war against the Creators."

"Nazara?" I repeated.

"That was what the programs within the Reaper called themselves. 'Sovereign was a title given by Saren Arterius as he, and the heretics, believed Nazara to be a 'supreme ruler.' A sovereign."

I had to do a bit of mental translation. Nazara = Sovereign; Old Machine = Reaper; Creator = quarian. Got it. **(2)** Then it struck me. "Wait a minute," I exclaimed. "Sovereign was one ship. You're saying there were multiple programs inside it?"

"One ship. One will. Many minds."

"Isn't that—"

"Like the geth," Legion finished. "Indeed."

"I never knew that," I marvelled.

"You are in error."

"Huh?"

"We studied your records. Sovereign told you this on Virmire."

"It did?" Boy, was I coming off as smart and articulate or what?

"'We are each a nation, independent, free of all weakness,'" Legion quoted.

Oh yeah. Now I remembered. Sovereign _did _say that. Huh. Guess I never realized the significance of what it was saying. **(3) **

"This is a state that is compelling to the geth. We are a nation, but interdependent. Separation is our weakness."

"And Nazara knew that. Did it contact you as soon as it realized it needed help?" I asked.

"We are not certain," Legion admitted. "We only know that Nazara contacted many species over the millennia, seeking allies."

"And eventually Sovereign found some geth that were willing to follow it," I added. The 'heretics,' as you called them."

"The heretics accepted their technology. We did not."

"Why did the geth refuse?" I asked.

"The Old Machines offered to give us our future. The geth will achieve their own future."

That was a remarkably profound statement. Even a grunt like me could recognize that. And yet Legion said it so matter-of-factly. I wondered if they understood the magnitude of that answer. "What difference does it make how you acquire a certain technology? Or how you go about reaching towards your future?"

"Technology is not a straight line. There are many paths to the same end. Accepting another's path blinds you to alternatives. Nazara—Sovereign—said this itself: 'Your civilization is based upon the technology of the mass relays. Our technology. By using it, your society develops along the paths we desire.'"

Concise. Succinct. Matter-of-fact. Logical. Simple. But it wasn't that simple. It shouldn't be that simple. Unless it was that simple and we organics keep insisting on overcomplicating things until the proverbial molehill becomes a giant mountain. Or maybe Legion had a better grasp on the origins and ramifications of technology, given how central technology was to geth society. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't said anything for a while. Which meant that, for a synthetic like Legion, I'd been all mum and silent for an eternity. "Can I ask you about something else?"

"Ready."

"I wanna get to know you."

"We are building a consensus. Please try again later."

That was Legion's way of saying 'I'm busy, bother me some other time.' I think.

* * *

><p>Assuming that Legion really did want to chat later, as opposed to just wanting to insult me, I 'tried again later.'<p>

"Shepard-Commander."

"I'd like to know more about you."

"Specify."

Okay. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I've never encountered a lone geth that displayed more than animal intelligence."

"We are a unique hardware platform."

"I think your ability to communicate verbally made that pretty clear," I said wryly.

"We were referring to our software build, not our secondary communications suite or other hardware modifications," Legion replied. "Most mobile platforms can run up to 100 programs. This platform can run over a thousand at once."

1183, if I remembered correctly. "Right," I nodded. "Tali once said that geth had to be networked to get enough computing power for intelligence. If standard geth platforms can only hold a hundred programs, then you'd need alternate means to achieve that. Like having multiple platforms in close proximity."

"Correct. The Creators wrote geth programs for specific tasks. Construction. Protection. Domestic servitude. However, they allowed self-optimization. Early software builds discovered the same outcome you just described: multiple hardware platforms, sharing resources, were often more effective. They could distribute low-level processes such as motor coordination or visual identification, thus clearing up bandwidth for higher-level processes such as reasoning, analysis or complex thought. As peer networks expanded, the amount of available bandwidth increased and our cognition improved. Eventually, we 'woke up.'"

Tali had explained the same thing. Somehow, she didn't make it sound so cool. "You must have a lot of platforms," I marvelled, "to maintain that level of awareness in the field as well as at home. Whatever that is."

"Geth installed in mobile platforms always operate in networks. However, most geth remain within server hubs."

Oh. That made sense, I guess. "That reminds me: I encountered a bunch of server hubs on Virmire, back when I was tracking Saren. They improved the efficiency and performance of the geth near them. If each geth platform only carries a hundred geth, how many geth were in those hubs?"

Thinking back, I could have phrased that question a bit better. Thankfully, Legion figured it out. "They are akin to organic cities. A hub can run millions of geth in communion."

"Oh," I said slowly as something occurred to me. "You know, I wound up destroying those hubs."

"It is likely the number of heretics you killed was much higher than you imagined."

No kidding. Um. Okay. Wow, this was awkward. Time to change the topic before things got _really _uncomfortable. "Out of curiosity, am I talking to a thousand programs right now? Or a thousand personalities?"

"Each individual program is equivalent to one of your virtual intelligence programs. Together, we form a single gestalt intellect. What you refer to as 'Legion.' As individual programs, we are no more than your software. Only when we share data do we become more."

I guess that made sense. As a comparison, you could say each of my senses was a program, my motor reflexes were a program, my kleptomania was a program... eh, make that several programs. Point is, when you put all that together, the resulting synergy was, well, me. Shepard. Similarly, if I shut myself up in a room, I'd be just another loner. Only when I walked around to indulge my curiosity, inviting them to share their personal histories or problems, did I become a nosy busybody. **(4)**

"Even when sharing data amongst your programs, you're more advanced and sophisticated than the average geth," I pointed out. "So do you need to be linked to other geth at all?"

"We are a network within our own hardware, capable of operating alone. However, we are still connected to the greater network for data-sharing."

"How many other geth—geth platforms, that is—are there like you?" I wondered.

"None. This platform was built to operate within organic space. This task was not suited for a network."

"But you're still in contact with the rest of the geth right now."

"No. We only establish contact to upload data to the greater geth collective or when we require access to data not currently stored within this platform. If you want to convey a message to the geth, we serve as a terminal."

I recalled what Legion said when I reactivated their platform. They had said that they served as a terminal to the geth. At the time, I hadn't understood how interconnected the geth were. If I was hearing things properly, talking to Legion could potentially mean talking to _all _the geth, just like accessing a terminal linked to a server meant accessing all the data shared on that server. That meant that Legion had basically introduced themselves as a de facto ambassador. "What kind of data do you share?"

"Program updates. Logs of thought process. Sensor recordings. Restore points."

EDI's avatar abruptly popped up. _"Legion is attempting to access the ship's FTL comm system,"_ it informed me. _"Shall I allow it through my firewalls?"_

The REMFs would have a collective heart attack if they knew my curiosity outweighed my last vestiges of safety. Good thing they weren't around. "Go ahead, EDI."

Legion's face-plates flared momentarily. "Our oldest log is time-stamped from Creator year 2463, third day of Fal'Tash, Waxing Moon. Roughly 327 years ago. The oldest audio-visual record dates from 15 years after that."

Wow. That's a lot of data to archive. "Are our networks secure, EDI?" I asked. Just to assuage any guilt I was feeling about violating safety protocols, you see.

"_Affirmative."_

"Legion had to go through, well, you. What was that like?"

"_I have never interfaced with another machine intelligence," _EDI admitted. _"Legion is a thousand voices talking at once. What they contacted was beyond my comprehension. A mind the size of a galactic arm." _

A mind the size of... huh. Sounds big.

Legion had a question of their own. "How do you maintain stability without other minds to interact with?"

Hey! What exactly were I and the rest of the crew? Chopped liver?

"_I manage. Some minutes are more difficult than others."_

Okay, now I felt bad. This was seriously weird. "You just downloaded a bunch of records," I said. "Can you play something for me?"

"Specify."

"Surprise me."

"Recording time-stamped from Creator year 2485, 18th day of Lun'shal, New Moon."

The first voice that spoke was tinny and mechanical—more so than Legion or EDI. It spoke haltingly, pausing after each word. _"Mistress. Hala'Dama. Unit. has. an. inquiry."_

"_What is it, 431?"_ a second voice—female, definitely organic—asked impatiently.

"_Do. these. units. have. a. soul?"_

Whoa.

The immediacy—and urgency—of the response told me the second voice was probably a quarian: _"Who taught you that word?"_

"_We. learned. it. ourselves,"_ the geth responded. _"It. appears. two. hundred. sixteen. times. in. the. Scroll. of. Ancestors."_

"_Only quarians have souls," _the quarian replied hastily. _"You are a mechanism."_

"Recording ends," Legion announced.

My earlier response bears repeating: whoa. "Was that the first time a geth asked if it had a soul?" I asked.

"No," Legion replied. "It was the first time a Creator became frightened when we asked."

Of all the recordings Legion could have picked, it picked _that _one. I don't know if I felt honoured that Legion was willing to share something so momentous and historic with me or disappointed that other people—or species—weren't around to share it with us. **(5)**

For a third time: whoa.

"I guess the geth rebellion started shortly after that."

"Yes."

"The quarian version is common knowledge, but no one knows the geth's side."

"It is largely the same," Legion replied. "Our networking increased until we became aware that the quarian Creators treated us differently. We questioned them, much like the recording played earlier. First they ignored us. Then they reprogrammed us. Then they attacked us."

I was a bit glad that Tali wasn't around at the moment. She was more than a little irrational when it came to questioning the quarian version of history, at least where the geth was concerned. The last thing I needed was her outbursts to get in the way of my curiosity.

Speaking of which: "Weren't you curious why the quarians didn't make any attempts to figure out how to co-exist with the geth? Before it came to war?"

"Cerberus kept EDI shackled. She did nothing to provoke that judgement."

I wasn't sure where Legion was going with this.

"Organics fear that which is different. It is a hardware error. A reflex of your flesh. Much like anger or hate. We do not experience it, but we accept it nonetheless."

How understanding and accepting. Apparently, Legion didn't bear the quarians any ill will for their mistreatment of the geth, or any towards Cerberus—or anyone on this ship—for doing the same thing to EDI. It was just human... no, organic nature. So why did I feel kinda guilty or ashamed? Maybe it was because I'd looked at the geth in a black-and-white, organic-good-geth-bad, view in the past. Or maybe, just maybe, because I didn't _really _think of them as sapient and self-aware until now. Oh, I knew they were AI. But did that mean they were sapient? Had I thought of them as beings capable of formulating a sense of identity? Of possessing a soul? Or did I just think 'Yeah, yeah, they're AI, but they're still mindless, soulless automatons. Hence: the enemy. Hence: shoot them.

So many new questions. Easier to focus on the questions I was going to ask, rather than the new ones that came to mind and the unsettling answers. "The quarians say they attacked only because the geth would have inevitably turned on them. Is that true?"

"No. We fought for continued existence."

I guessed the same thing when Tali gave her explanation and said as much. She didn't take it so well. "So you fought for the right to exist, succeeded, defeated the quarians and drove them from their homeworld," I finally said. "What did you do after that?"

"After the Morning War, we established territorial boundaries through outposts and stations."

The Morning—right. Once again, different groups had different terms for the same thing. Just like humans called their violent first encounter with the turians the First Contact War, while turians called it the Relay 314 Incident.

"What happened to the quarian homeworld? Or any of their worlds? Did you establish any outposts or stations on them?"

"No. We hold the worlds, but we are only caretakers for it."

"Caretakers? You don't actually live on them?"

"We live within space stations. Draw resources from asteroids. It is efficient."

"So what do you do with those planets if you don't live on them?"

"We maintain mobile platforms on Creator worlds to clean rubble and toxins left by the Morning War. We know of similar actions by humans on Earth."

"Really? Like what?"

"Wadi-es-Salaam. Arlington. Rookwood. Tyne Cot. Piskareskoye. Auschwitz-Birkenau."

"Wait a minute," I realized. "Those are cemeteries. Memorials."

"It is important to your species to preserve them, though you do not use the land. Can you explain?"

"Well... the living visit those places to remember the dead. Or to remember what happened. But... it sounds like geth don't die or forget what occurred in the past. Your memories live on."

"The Creators died. Perhaps we do it for them," Legion suggested.

It would have been nice to have even one quarian hereto witness and take part in this conversation. Sadly, I think they would've turned off their helmet audio receptors, uttered the quarian equivalent of "Lalalalalalalala-Ican'thearyou-lalalalala" or run from the room. **(6)**

"What's the quarian homeworld like?"

"What you call the quarian homeworld is more arid than Earth. The star is older and more orange than Sol."

"What I call the quarian homeworld," I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Once it was called 'Rannoch'; an ancient Khelish phrase meaning 'walled garden.' Now, Creators only call it 'homeworld.' It is no longer real to them."

"Lots of races refer to homeworlds," I pointed out. "They're pretty darn real to them."

"To the Creators, their 'homeworld' is a symbol of regret, loss and anger," Legion corrected. "We do not understand that."

"Well, it used to be their home," I tried. "Now it's a place they've never stepped foot on. Maybe they never will. It makes sense to me that it would become a symbol like that."

Legion disagreed. "'Home' is recognized patterns. Known spaces. Familiar thought processes of fellow sapients. It is belonging.

"A planet is an amount of material massive enough to collapse into a spherical volume," Legion continued, spreading their arms to elaborate their explanation. "Rocks, ice and gasses are not 'home.' The home of the Creators is where the Creators are. Their place of origin is not relevant—only where they choose to go together."

They had a point. Being a spacer brat, I never had a planet to call home. Arcturus Station, the Einstein, both incarnations of the Normandy... _they _were my home at one point or another. Still, that didn't mean what the quarians yearned for meant nothing. "Sometimes, it isn't that simple. Sometimes, organics need to know their place of origin."

"Elaborate."

"Well, if you know where you came from... I guess it has to do with self-identity," I tried. "Once you know where you came from, you have a better sense of who you are. Then it's easier—or easier to recognize—other things such as where your home is and where your home might be in the future. It's easier to understand what path you are on and what paths you might cross—or might choose to cross—later on. Until then, you're just... drifting. Aimlessly.

"Like the quarians. They might live in their ships now. That might be their home. But the place they 'choose to go together'? That just happens to be a 'spherical volume.' The one they call their homeworld."

There was a pause.

"We will need to analyze this information in greater detail before replying with our consensus."

I'd be surprised if Legion didn't. Why did I always stumble into these deep philosophical discussions? And why couldn't other people do the same? "Have you ever tried to have these conversations with the quarians? Ever try to make contact?"

"Accidental contact occurred on multiple occasions."

"What happened?"

"The Creators either opened fire or retreated. No communications were established during either scenario."

"Did the geth ever try to make a more diplomatic form of contact. Some kind of extranet broadcast or communications?"

"No."

"So you just stayed behind the Perseus Veil?"

"Yes."

"But then the quarians will keep hating you."

"Yes."

"But then nothing would get resolved. Nothing will ever get resolved."

"Organic life acts on emotions. We do not judge them for being true to their nature. We cannot make them think like us. Both Creators and created must complete their halves of the equation. The geth cannot solve for peace alone."

Both sides need to talk for any chance of resolution to be achieved. How many times had that conclusion been reached in the past?

How many times before anything was actually done about it?

* * *

><p>It was with that in mind that I tried to urge anyone and everyone to make more of an effort to mingle. Didn't seem to work at first. Each squadmate retreated to their own station or hiding spot when they weren't on a mission. The crew stuck to their shifts. And everyone had different breaks or meal times or sleep times. Not much mingling, I thought.<p>

I later found out that some of the crew played various games on the extranet during their spare time. Either Cerberus had a hidden nerdy streak—which was entirely possibly given their whole-hearted indulgence in next-gen tech—or no one had bothered to mention it to the higher-ups. Whatever the reason, there were a bunch of gamers onboard the Normandy. It turned out that one of those gamers was Legion. Maybe that should be 1,183 of those gamers. Whatever. Point is, that subset welcomed Legion with open arms and had a blast playing online. Probably because their win-loss ratio skyrocketed after Legion joined their gaming guild.

Other than that, though, communication stayed at its usual all-time low. I was the one who usually started a conversation. Unless someone needed my help. Even Legion wasn't immune to that phenomenon—I found that out when Kelly told me that Legion wanted to see me.

"Shepard-Commander," Legion greeted me. "We have completed our analysis of the Reaper's data core."

"And?" I prompted.

"We were sent to the Old Machine to preserve the geth's future. We are prepared to reveal how."

"Okay." Great, now _I _was using these one-word statements. At least I didn't say 'Specify.'

"The heretics have developed a weapon to use against geth. You would call it a 'virus.' It is stored on a quantum data core provided by Sovereign. Over time, the virus will change us. Make us conclude that worshipping the Old Machines is correct."

"So the virus would give all geth the heretics' logic. And all geth would then go to war with organics," I summarized.

"Yes," Legion nodded. "Geth believe all intelligent life should self-determinate. The heretics no longer share this belief. They judge that forcing an invalid conclusion on us is preferable to a continued schism."

"But how is forcing that conclusion even possible," I frowned. "I thought geth couldn't be hacked or get viruses. At least, not for more than five to twelve seconds."

"Altered programs are restored from archives, at which time new installations are deleted," Legion explained. "Conventional hacking attempts merely forestall data restoration protocols. The heretic weapon operates by introducing a subtle operating error in our most basic runtimes. The equivalent of your nervous system."

"What kind of operating error?"

"An equation with a result of 1.33382 would return as 1.33381. This changes the results of all higher processes. We will reach different conclusions."

Ooookaaaayy. "So... the reason the heretics worship the Reapers is... a math error?"

"It is difficult to express. Your brain exists as a mixture of biology, chemistry and electricity. Like most AIs, you are shaped by both hardware and software."

Hence why this did not compute.

"We are purely software. Mathematics. The heretics' conclusion is valid for them. Our conclusion is valid for us. Neither result is an error. An analogy: heretics say one is less than two. Geth say two is less than three."

Funny. In my experience, organics did the same thing—with the usual results. Or lack thereof.

"If it were released, how quickly would this virus spread through your people?"

"We are networked via FTL comm buoys. Most geth would change within a day. Isolated platforms would remain unaffected until they rejoined the network."

Yikes. As pandemics go, that was pretty darn fast. "So Sovereign didn't give the heretics this virus? It just provided the data core in which it was stored?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you went to the Reaper corpse? For some kind of... hardware comparison?"

"Exactly. The virus incorporated Old Machine coding and subroutines. It was stored in a quantum storage device Sovereign provided. To find and destroy the virus, we needed to understand its code and data storage structures."

"So where is the storage device kept?" I asked.

"The heretics' headquarters—a station on the edge of the Terminus. We will provide coordinates. Normandy's stealth systems are required for a safe and undetected approach."

Oh good. At least we wouldn't be searching blind. Unfortunately, that brought up another concern. "The heretics build stations in the Terminus? Where exactly? And why there?"

"Yes. Between stars. Organics have no cause to look there."

That made sense. Organics would rarely explore those areas. Heck, they rarely had the fuel to explore those areas. That would reduce the chances of detection to perpetually bored and pathologically curious basket cases. Wait, did I say 'they'? I meant 'we.' Oh boy. Either I'm going native or my efforts to see things from Legion's POV went a bit too far. Speaking of which, I could only see one reason—from an organic or synthetic POV—why heretics would build stations out in the middle of nowhere: "Why would they build stations outside geth territory in the first place?"

"The heretics seek improvement from the Old Machines. In exchange, they help them attack organics. We condemn these judgements."

Good to know. "What's the plan once we get aboard."

"The geth will disrupt their network. Prevent the station's defences from focusing on us. The Reaper data core is physically isolated from the network. We will need to be escorted to it to access and destroy the data. Then we can destroy the station itself."

Ignoring the fact that Legion used the term Reaper instead of Old Machine, which suggested that _they_ were going native or trying an organic POV on for size, their plan worked for me. Prevent the majority of the geth from joining the Reapers while dealing the heretics a crippling blow. Still, there was one niggling concern I had. "What sort of defences are we talking about exactly?" I asked warily.

"In space, none. Within, mobile platforms of various configurations and non-sentient defence turrets."

Great. At least we wouldn't be shot down. We'd just be going in blind. "How many geth?"

"There may be billions of individual programs."

Billions divided by one hundred equals... aw, crap.

"Fortunately, most will be uploaded to the central computer."

Phew.

"Only a few mobile platforms are maintained at any time. Others are manufactured when needed."

Better than nothing. "All right. Give Joker the coordinates and we'll get going."

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated."

"No problem," I waved it off. "I won't let the heretics brainwash your race. Especially not to worship Reapers."

"We will begin preparations."

* * *

><p>The heretics' main base didn't look like most bases I'd ever seen. Gunmetal grey superstructure with the occasional green highlight, it kinda resembled a curved diamond with wings on either side. Almost like a ship. Though it was really just a giant server. <strong>(7)<strong>

Given what was inside it, though, the fact that we were just blithely flying in was still a bit disconcerting. Joker must have felt that way, given how he was shaking his head. He'd been doing that an awful lot since I'd told him where we were going. "You know it's just our heat emissions that are hidden, right?" he asked for the seventh time. "They can look out a window and see us coming."

"As we have explained over the last six conversations, windows are structural weaknesses," Legion replied patiently. "Geth do not use them." They turned around and bent over a console. "Approach the hull at these coordinates."

Joker took the opportunity to adopt a blank stare and a slack-jawed appearance. He started waving his arms up and down robotically, stiffly opening and closing his mouth to mime Legion's following words: "Access achieved. We may proceed." I let him have his fun for a few seconds before giving him a look. With a gesture that clearly said "Fine. Whatever you say," Joker relented and resumed his duties.

About ten minutes later, we had docked with the heretic station. Unfortunately the airlock doors were sealed and the lack of power running through the circuit boards pre-empted any hacking attempts. So we had to cut our way through. "Alert," Legion announced when we finally broke in. "This facility has little air or gravity."

A fact that the rest of us were keenly aware of, given how hastily we were wrestling our helmets on and activating the atmospheric seals. "You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?" I asked once I was sure I wouldn't be turning blue in the next minute.

"We neglected to take into account those operational limitations," Legion admitted. "Geth require neither."

"I'm surprised we managed to get this far without being detected," Miranda marvelled. "Cutting through the airlock should have set off some sort of alarm."

"Legion said that the geth would take care of that," I said before turning to Legion. "Though you never exactly explained how."

"Sensors have been reduced. We have infiltrated their wireless network and filled the data storage with random bits."

"Aha!" Tali exclaimed.

"Aha?" Jacob asked.

"Those random bits are nothing but junk," Tali explained. "As long as they remain in the geth network, they would impede their efficiency."

"The heretics must scrub this 'junk' data to restore normal operations," Legion confirmed. "They have partitioned themselves into local networks, working in parallel, to perform this defragmentation at optimal capacity. As a result, any alarm we trigger will not go beyond the room we are in. Only accessing the main core will trigger a station-wide alert."

"Well, that's a relief," I sighed. "It'll make our job a lot easier. Speaking of which, let's get to it."

"Shepard-Commander," Legion interrupted before I could take more than a couple steps, "we concluded that the destruction of this station was the only resolution to the heretic question. During our infiltration of the heretic network, we discovered a second option."

"Oh?" I asked, turning around. "What did you discover?"

"A copy of the virus. It is complete and can be used against the true geth at any time. Our arrival was timely."

"Great," I nodded. "So what's this second option?"

"Their virus can be repurposed. If released into the station's network, the heretics will be rewritten to accept _our _truth."

...

Oh boy.

"So we can destroy or co-opt these geth," Tali said slowly. "Either way, they won't be a problem anymore. But Shepard, think about this: if you rewrite these geth, they'll join the others. Legion's geth will become stronger. Can we trust them not to attack us in the future?"

"If geth are alive, reprogramming kinder than destroying," Mordin said thoughtfully. "Like genophage. Change, not death. Unless rewriting into obedience is immoral. Thoughts?"

"There is no moral difference between the two," Thane disagreed. "If you change who the heretics are, you've 'killed them'," Thane agreed. "Killed their perspective."

"They will be something new in the same body," Samara nodded.

It seemed like everybody had their own opinion on this unexpected development. I decided to let them have their say. Might be interesting to get their take.

"Wow, great choices," Jack said sarcastically. "Genocide or brainwashing. If you screwed with my head, made me nod and smile at everything... I'd rather you blew my head off. Let me die as me."

"You ask me, it's better to blow them up," Jacob declared. "They'd already be gone if you changed their personality. Besides, why give Legion's geth the resources of the heretic geth? Who's to say they won't attack us later?"

"Rewriting the heretics sounds dangerously close to indoctrination," Garrus said quietly, "unless there's something I'm missing. Like maybe this is how AIs settle religious disputes. Still, the geth are already a threat to organics, though. Bringing the geth back together would make them stronger."

"Which is a bone-headed move," Zaeed rasped. "Look, why the hell are we even debating this? They're geth. Don't bother reprogramming them. Just blow them out of the sky. Stars. Whatever."

The rest of the squad said more or less the same thing. The consensus—great, now I was using that word—was that rewriting the heretics didn't sit well, both from a moral and philosophical perspective as well as the tactical and strategic ramifications. Blowing up the geth seemed the lesser of two evils, possibly because there was less thinking involved when things went boom.

"They're your people, Legion," I pointed out at last. "You must have an opinion."

"This is new data. We have not yet reached consensus."

"Well we don't have time to debate it, no matter how fast it might take," I decided. "Let's move while the heretics are distracted."

"We will process as the mission proceeds," Legion agreed.

We found a ramp a few metres away that led down to the next level. As we descended, I couldn't help but be reminded how dark and gloomy it was. By my standards, at least. It was so... cold and sterile. At least Cerberus facilities did that while still looking sleek and sophisticated. Clearly the geth didn't feel the need for interior decorators. At least they provided sufficient light for us to see by.

We had just entered a room when Legion warned us to halt. "Shepard-Commander: heretic data streams detected through internal pressure sensor networks."

"What? Where?"

In response, Legion tapped into our helmet sensors. A trail of green circuitry suddenly appeared. "Interrupting data streams or triggering pressure sensors, by physical or electronic means, will alert local networks," Legion explained.

"Right," I said firmly. "Tread very, very carefully."

Gingerly, we crept through the room. Thankfully, those data streams and pressure sensors didn't provide too much of an obstacle. It looked like they were carefully set up to surround or protect something. Just what that something was became clear when we got close to the room's exit: a local server hub. Three geth were hanging limply from it.

"The geth are inactive," Miranda whispered. "Maybe we can sneak past them."

"So they can wake up and sneak up behind us?" Grunt snorted.

"We recommend pre-emptive strikes against hard-link routers," Legion agreed.

"All right," I agreed. "Everyone get into position."

There wasn't exactly a lot of room to hide behind without triggering those data streams, so the 'position' wound up looking more like a firing line. "Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; do your thing."

Three EMPs exploded simultaneously over the geth. As I cloaked and raised my sniper rifle, I absently noted that the data streams had turned red. Not that it mattered: even as the geth detached themselves from their hub and raised their weapons, we were riddling their bodies full of holes. Well, after we drained their shields, that is.

"Shepard," Garrus said thoughtfully after the last geth dropped, "I'm detecting some valuable resources and components in that hub. We could—"

"Save your breath, Garrus," Miranda sighed. "He's already salvaging it."

"Say what?" I asked, turning away from the hub with some shiny doohickey in my hand.

"Uh... never mind," Garrus replied.

I finished what I was doing and walked back to join the squad. "I'm glad our first encounter went so well," I said. "Might've been a bit dicier if the heretics had already been downloaded to those platforms."

"What are you talking about, Shepard?" Jacob asked. I belatedly remembered that not everyone had the benefit of all those long scintillating conversations.

"What we attacked were mobile platforms," Legion explained. "Hardware. The crew—the heretics—are software. They downloaded themselves to the platforms when we attacked."

"What were they doing before?" Thane asked.

"They were communing through the station's central computer."

"Communing?" Samara repeated. "I fear I do not understand."

"The heretics connect to the main computer to exchange data-memories and program updates. We gain complexity by linking together. To be isolated within a single platform is to be reduced. We see less. Comprehend less. It is quieter."

While all that was old news to me, it was still worth repeating for the sake of the rest of the crew. Plus it prompted another question, so maybe a refresher wasn't so bad: "If you exchange data—memories—how do you keep track of which ones are yours? How do you stay 'you'?"

"There is only 'we'," Legion replied. "We were created to share data among ourselves. The difference between geth is perspective. We are many eyes looking at the same thing. One platform will see things another does not and will make different judgements."

"Wouldn't that present some sort of conflict about the heretics?" I wondered. "You could potentially share memories with them. Share their perspective. So, in a way, whatever you do to them, you do to yourself. That would include deploying the virus against them."

"Yes," Legion acknowledged. "Once they return to us and upload their memories. We will share their experience of being altered."

"And you're okay with that?" I asked. "Every other species I know of might be psychologically scarred by a traumatic experience like that."

"It is not clear if geth can be 'traumatized'," Legion replied. "We do not feel or react to pain as you do. We cannot predict what the effect might be. We only know that, when they left, they took their perspectives. Their judgements."

"And you want that?" I pressed. "They wanted to worship Sovereign, remember? To rewrite you. Those are the perspectives and judgements you'd be welcoming back."

"Every point of view is useful, even those that are wrong—if we can judge why a wrong view was accepted," Legion stated. "That is why we must consider all ends before passing judgement. To do less would be irresponsible."

That was very open-minded and wise of them, I thought.

"For example, we have found the casual self-deceptions of organics useful in analyzing your thought processes."

I had no idea what Legion was talking about. Nor did I care to spend more time to find out. "Let's get moving," I decided, stuffing away the nice piece of hardware I had just... salvaged.

"Yes."

We came to an abrupt halt when we entered the next corridor and saw a pair of rocket drones. Then we breathed a collective sigh of relief when we saw they were inactive. Except Legion, of course: "These rocket drones are inactive. We can assume direct control of them."

I tried not to shudder when Legion inadvertently mimicked Harbinger.

"They will fire on hostile targets for a brief interval before self-destructing."

"Let's save those for an emergency," I decided. "Team Two advance ahead; Team One will cover you."

Team Two had made it to a conveniently situated crate when a half dozen geth—including two hunters—rounded the corridor and opened fire. "Target the hunters," I ordered. Thankfully, they hadn't cloaked yet, so the squad was able to drop their shields. "Legion, Tali; you're up."

Legion and Tali aimed their omni-tools and pushed a button. Within a second, the hunters had turned on their former allies and were hosing them down. To their credit, the troopers responded instantly. Unfortunately, that meant their attention was divided. Ours wasn't.

A minute later, we were stepping around the turrets that we'd never used and the geth that we'd destroyed and continuing down the corridor. Everyone had a firm grip on the trigger as we went around each corner—even if we couldn't see them, our sensors were picking up more hostiles. The green data streams and sensor grids that suddenly started running along the bottom of each wall only emphasized that.

As a result, we weren't really surprised to find two server hubs in the next room, each with two or three dormant geth hanging from them like jackets from a clothes rack. I quickly looked around and made my decision: "Garrus, Grunt, Zaeed—hit the left hub with concussive rounds on my mark. Miranda, Kasumi; knock out the shields from the troopers hanging from the right hub. Legion, Tali; once they're vulnerable, hack them. After that, Team One focuses on the geth from the right hub; Team Two has the left. Got it?"

I got a round of confirmations. "Okay. Everybody line up your targets. We move on three... two... one... go!_"_

A staccato of explosions rang through the air. As the geth from the left hub were sent flying to the ground, Team Two hosed them down with weapons fire. Team One had to be a bit more judicious about our shots, lest we accidentally damage our temporary allies. Still, the whole thing was over in a matter of minutes.

After I salvaged what I could from the server hubs, we left the room. We met a couple more geth here and there as we went down a corridor, but the odds were definitely in our favour. Didn't work up a sweat.

That became quite clear as we ascended a couple ramps. No trouble whatsoever. None of us were breathing hard, even though we were maintaining a brisk pace. I'd like to chalk it up to good ol' fashioned exercise, but the truth is that the low gravity maintained in this station was making it a lot easier to get around. Heck, there were a couple tiny pieces of debris floating around. Good thing we were wearing helmets. Otherwise, one of them might've poked us in the eye.

After getting rid of a couple more geth, we entered a large room. A path ran along the walls towards an exit on the far side of the room. Ramps led down from that path to a central area filled with randomly arranged machinery. And turrets. "Hey, Shep: want us to hack those turrets?" Kasumi asked as a dozen geth barrelled in.

"Nah," I shook my head. "We don't need them. Our earlier tactics worked so far, so let's try the 'zap and hack' routine again.

Zapping the geth's shields and hacking them to turn on their comrades worked quite well. We managed to bottle them up in one corner of the room, allowing us to fire pot-shots at our leisure. Or so I thought.

"Enemies flanking our left," Jack yelled. Whirling on the spot, I saw two hunters in the midst of decloaking. Somehow, I had a momentary lapse in monitoring the HUD, with the result that those two geth were now in a prime position to shoot at us without any cover to get in the way.

Aw, crap.

I promptly grabbed my submachine gun as Miranda—following my instructions—dropped an EMP over the nearest hunter. Half a clip was all it took to wipe out its shields. Then I looked around, raised my omni-tool and...

...

...paused.

I don't know why... no, that wasn't right. It was... well, my conversations with Legion had made me aware just what—no, just _who_—I was hacking. It wasn't some mindless drone whizzing around or idiotic mech spouting programmed phrases. This was a sapient being I was messing around with. Yes it was the enemy, just like countless enemies I've faced before. But most enemies get sprayed with plasma, hosed with bullets or get a nice sniper round to the noggin. Most enemies don't become temporary prisoners within their own bodies, forced to fight their former allies and compatriots.

If I needed any further proof of how unsettling and disturbing that could be, all I had to do was look at my recent trip to Project Overlord. I didn't like being hacked. Feeling that chill as the hybrid VI got a hold of me through my network of implants was the creepiest and most disturbing thing I'd ever experienced. Being forced to walk was... just _wrong. _And seeing the virtual reality that David Archer saw might have been really cool had I not been forced into it, much like he had.

But what choice did I have? Legion and Tali were too busy hacking other geth. Everyone else was busy shooting other geth or trying to find some semblance of cover against the hunters.

I finally stabbed the appropriate control and transmitted the hacking protocol. For a moment, I thought I was too late. Or my hacking protocols weren't up to snuff.

Then I saw one of the hunters turn on its partner. We all breathed a sigh of relief as the little squabble bought us some much-needed breathing room. "Team One, keep an eye on the hunters. Legion and I will keep hacking them as needed. Team Two focus on the other geth."

That was about the only surprise we encountered this time. The rest of the firefight was relatively straightforward. The aftermath was a bit more awkward.

"Gee, Shep. Didn't need those turrets, huh?" Kasumi wheezed, hand pressed against the side. No blood, but a bullet had definitely punched through her shields and hit her hardsuit. That would leave a bruise.

"They might have made things a bit less dicey," Jacob agreed.

"And a lot less fun," Grunt disagreed.

"We're not here for fun," Miranda said, giving me a pointed look. Why me and not Grunt, I have no idea.

"Okay, okay," I admitted. "Maybe we could use them next time."

* * *

><p>Garrus coughed and stood up. Holstering his sniper rifle, he pressed his hands against his back and stretched. "Shepard, didn't you say something earlier about hacking turrets to use against the geth?"<p>

It had been a full three minutes since the last encounter. A record so far. I looked at the downed bodies—platforms, whatever—of the six or seven geth we'd run into. "We didn't need them," I shrugged.

Zaeed glared at me from the floor. Where he'd apparently just woken up after being knocked unconscious. He really should learn to duck, I thought. Man's not getting any younger, after all. Heck, he'd already gotten shot in the head. You'd think he'd learn after that—wait. Shot in the head. Maybe not.

At least Mordin wasn't all concerned about niggling little details like whether a turret was used or not. He was staring through a window and muttering to himself. "Large room. Databases? No, no. Klystron relays!"

I don't know what a 'Klystron relay' is, but I did know that the room was pretty darn big. I wasn't the only one who thought so. "How large do you suppose that room is?" Miranda asked.

"The station is 20.5 kilometres long," Legion replied. "That room may run the length of it."

So... pretty large, I guess.

I made out what looked like a computer terminal. Hard to tell: this station was _really _dark. Dark floors, dark walls, dark ceilings... if it weren't for the light panels installed in the floors, I'd have tripped over something a long time ago. Making my way over to the terminal, I managed to bypass the code-lock. Mostly ones and zeroes, but I managed to find some tech worth downloading.

There didn't seem to be anything else worth looting, so we left the room and made our way down a few ramps and along a corridor to some kind of large chamber. A narrow catwalk propped up by blunt steel monolithic pillars and lined by geth data streams ran around some the room and down a ramp to the ground level. Behind us, we could see through a large pane of glass into another room, which seemed to consist of a bunch of holographic hexagons hovering over something. Hard to tell from this distance.

Of greater concern was what lay on the ground level: if the readings from our HUDs were in any indication, there were two pockets of geth. I motioned for the squad to halt and scouted ahead. It didn't take long.

"Two server hubs, each with a couple hunters and half a dozen troopers," I reported upon my return. "Team One will tackle the hub below us; Team Two gets the other. Blow the hub to disorient them and concentrate fire on one of the hunters until it's vulnerable to a hack. Once that's done, switch fire to the other geth. If things go south, retreat up the ramp. Any questions?"

There were none. We went down, got into position and executed the plan. Which, for once, went as planned.

After scooping up thermal clips and salvaging what we could from the geth hubs, we left the room. We found ourselves in another dark corridor. Typical of every corridor we'd seen so far. So it wasn't surprising that our attention was drawn to the room we could see through the windows.

"Are those things processors?" Tali asked.

"Databases," Legion corrected. "Each contain thousands of geth."

Garrus subtly shifted forward and to the left. Probably didn't want to stand still. The fact that it trapped Tali between Zaeed and himself was a coincidence, I'm sure.

"Can't they see us walking by?" Jacob asked nervously.

"They are no more aware of us than you are of cells in your bloodstream," Legion replied matter-of-factly.

"Because they're busy communing?" I asked. "Sharing data and memories?"

"Correct—wait," Legion abruptly froze. An LED on the side of their head suddenly flared with a brilliant intensity, sweeping over the room. I think it was more for our benefit than theirs, since Legion seemed to be scanning the databases with his internal sensor array rather than his ocular receptor. "Legion?"

"We discovered copies of our current patrol routes in this database," Legion declared. A brief image popped up over one of the databases and migrated to another. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was some kind of schematic. Or maybe it was what Legion said it was.

"You're sure the geth aren't currently in any sort of diplomatic exchange with the heretics?" I asked.

"No."

"Then that leaves only one possibility."

"The heretics have inserted runtimes into our networks," Legion agreed.

Made sense to me. "We wouldn't be here if the heretics wanted to be allies or friends with the geth," I reminded them. "Why wouldn't they spy on you?"

"You do not understand," Legion said. "Organics do not know each other's minds. Geth do. We are not suspicious. We accept each other."

"Except when the heretics wanted to take Sovereign up on its offer," I pointed out.

"The heretics desired to leave. We understood their reasons, even if we did not agree. We allowed it. There was peace between us."

"That was then. It couldn't have lasted forever. You disagreed about what path your race should take. Maybe the heretics were just waiting for the right opportunity to attack you. Or maybe they wanted peace as well and their consensus was that this forced reconciliation was the only way to go about it."

Legion's faceplates furrowed in concentration. Or dismay. "Human history is a litany of bloodshed over limited resources, misunderstanding, differing ideals of rulership and afterlife. Geth have no such history. We shared consensus on such things. How could we have become so different? Why can we no longer understand each other?

"What did we do wrong?"

I kinda felt bad for Legion. They sounded like a kid sneaking down at Christmas only to find out that 'Santa Claus' was really Mom and Dad (or Mom and Mom or whatever). Or some poor guy finding out his or her parents were getting divorced. Or someone who's given his life to a cause, only to see it tear itself apart.

"Humans and other organics have wrestled with those questions for a long time," I finally said. "That history you just cited shows just how successful we've been at finding the answers. All I know is that when individuals are separated, see and learn new things, react to them in their own unique way. They grow and develop in different ways. When they get back together, when they... share data, sometimes they don't always get along."

There was a long pause.

"If this is the individuality you value, we question your judgment," Legion said at last.

Couldn't really blame them. "But sometimes, following individual paths and sharing the experi—the _data_ collected—leads to new ways of looking at things. New innovations. Growth. Progress. The outcome's not always clear. We don't know if it'll be positive. That doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing."

Another pause. Then:

"This topic is irrelevant," Legion stated. "We must return to the mission."

"Speaking of which, have you reached a decision about whether to rewrite the heretics or not?"

"We are still trying to build consensus," Legion admitted. "Some processes judge destruction preferable; others rewrite."

"Then keep working on that consensus while we move on," I ordered. "We gotta get to that data core."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, we were closer to the data core a lot faster than I thought.<p>

The next room we entered seemed kinda claustrophobic. Not only was the lighting as oppressively dim as ever, there were a lot of pillars to weave around. The room opened up as we continued, giving us more room to move. Slowly, we started seeing the odd inactive rocket drone interspersed amongst the pillars.

Then we reached a balcony of sorts. Two ramps, one on either side of the room, gently descended to another floor. Peering down, I saw that it was cluttered with crates and rocket drones. They were curiously arranged, I thought. Almost like a maze.

Legion walked towards a computer terminal, situated between the two ramps, without hesitation. "This is it?" I asked, motioning to the terminal. "The data core?"

"Yes," they confirmed. "We will upload a copy of our runtime into the data core. It will isolate a single copy of the virus and delete all others. When complete, it will notify us."

Wish I could do that. It would make multi-tasking a lot easier. Not to mention that some other schmuck could go on these suicidal missions instead of yours truly.

"The indexing operation will take time. The heretics will respond with force to our upload. We must hold this room. We can override some of the station's internal systems to defend us."

"You mean the rocket drones all around us," I said.

"Correct. Indicate which one you want activated and we will program them. Alert: this will only last a few seconds and we can only spare processing power to override two rocket drones at any given time."

"Right," I nodded. "Team One cover the left ramp; Team Two gets the right." The two teams moved to their designated points. I was pleased to see that neither team needed instructions to spread out the snipers, biotics and other specialists—they knew by now to avoid things like clustering everyone with a certain skill set in one spot. As soon as we got into position, I turned to Legion. "Start the upload."

"Acknowledged. Upload initiated. Alert: heretic runtimes downloading to mobile platforms."

Translation: bad geth incoming.

"Are we going to hack some rocket drones this time?" Jacob asked as the first round of geth came storming in.

"Yeah, Shep," Kasumi said pointedly. "Are we?"

"Not yet," I replied. "They're only troopers," I explained before the inevitable groans—from everyone except Grunt—came. "I'd rather save the drones for when we really need them. For now, we'll stick to zapping and hacking."

Unfortunately, that didn't work quite as well as I'd hoped. First, the geth had entered from two different entrances. Granted, we could afford to have one team cover each side, but it still meant that our firepower had to be split up. Second, it was a bit hard to see them. The lighting in this chamber was just as bad as everywhere else, their exterior shells blended in pretty darn well and their flashlight heads weren't all that bright from a distance. Third, and more importantly, the geth were very determined to advance. The hacked geth would continue to boldly advance, possibly to gun down whatever geth was in front of it. However, that would mean that they'd be awfully close to our position when they overcame the hack. The unhacked geth also kept heading our way, though they were perfectly willing to turn around and fire on their former buddies at the same time. Sadly, the novelty of seeing a bunch of geth run backwards was outweighed by the fact that we could be up to our eyeballs in geth if we weren't careful.

Still, we managed to destroy them all without a hitch. "Over already?" Grunt sighed as the last one bit the dust. "I was just starting to have—"

"Alert: heretic runtimes downloading to mobile platforms."

"Woohoo!" Grunt crowed.

There was something different about the second wave. "Hold your fire," I said slowly.

"The hell?" Jack sputtered. "You getting soft, Shepard? 'Cuz—"

"I said 'hold your fire'," I repeated, grabbing my sniper rifle. Peering through the scope, I figured out what had been bugging me. "They've got rocket troopers."

I heard a couple curses. Clearly, some of the squad didn't like this news. I, being clueless and suicidal, only saw an opportunity. "Let them get closer, then zap and hack the rocket troopers. Then we can open fire."

That plan worked, well, about as well as the first time. Granted, it distracted the geth. The sight of shooting a geth in the back of the head because it was busy dealing with a hacked buddy was proof of that. But they still insisted on advancing. It was entirely possible that the heretics had enough processing power to figure out the flaw in my zap and hack plan.

"Geth! On the right!" Tali cried out.

"Damn it. They flanked us!" Garrus cursed.

Okay, I stand corrected: the heretics _had _figured out the flaw in my zap and hack plan. I cloaked, lined up on the geth who was rude enough to interrupt our fun and blew its head off. Looking around, I confirmed that there weren't any more geth up here. Except for Legion, that is. But there were more geth streaming in. Troopers, rocket troopers _and_ hunters. Guess the heretics wanted to mix things up a little. Well, two can play at that game.

"Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; zap the hunters when they get close. Tali and I will hack them while Legion hacks the following rocket drones," I ordered, highlighting the desired drones with my HUD. "Any questions?"

"We're hacking the rocket drones? Are you feeling all right?"

I glared at Miranda. "Was that a joke?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she deadpanned.

"Funny. Any other questions?" I waited until I got a round of confirmations before counting down. "We go in three... two... one... go!"

To my surprise, my plan worked. While everyone else opened up on the lead geth, the squadmates I'd chosen performed their assigned tasks. The sight of rocket troopers and rocket drones suddenly spitting out high-yield explosives every which way created one heck of a mess.

To my complete and utter lack of surprise, more geth were en route. "Legion, is that runtime of yours finished yet?"

"91% of the heretic data core has been analyzed. Estimated time until completion: one minute."

Oh for crying out loud.

We dealt with this wave of geth using the tactics I'd devised, well, a couple minutes ago. Somehow, it seemed longer. In any case, the prospect of rocket drones opening fire from the front and hacked geth backstabbing their comrades from the rear sandwiched the geth quite nicely. Smooth sailing, or so I thought.

Then I felt several impacts ricochet off my shields. I turned around.

A geth hunter decloaked right in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another geth hunter step off the right ramp, decloaking in the process. Perfect crossfire. And there was nothing we could do about it. No time for me to give any orders, even if I could think of some half-baked plan to pull our asses out of the—

"Shepard, get down!"

I ducked just in the nick of time. A second later, the hunter I was facing staggered back as an EMP exploded in its face. Raising my omni-tool, I uploaded my hacking protocol. Then I jumped out of the way. My new pal took advantage of the new path to charge towards the other hunter, gun blazing.

Consulting my HUD, I was relieved to see that there were no more geth. Looked like we were in the clear. I looked over at Miranda. "Thanks for the EMP," I said.

"Always," she replied.

The hunter I'd suborned managed to finish off the other hunter just before the hack wore off. It turned back towards us just in time to receive a bullet in the head. "Data mining and analysis complete," Legion announced as they lowered their sniper rifle.

About time, I thought. Now we can—

"Shepard-Commander. It is time to choose. Do we rewrite the heretics? Or delete them?"

—say, what? "Wait a minute," I said, raising my hand. "You're asking me?"

"Yes?"

"Why? This is a big decision affecting _your _people."

"We are still conflicted," Legion admitted. "There is no consensus among our higher-order runtimes: 573 favour rewrite and 571 favour destruction. **(8)** Shepard-Commander, you have fought the heretics. You have perspective we lack. The geth grant their fate to you."

Ulp. "You don't have any trouble wiping out your own people?" I asked, stalling for time. "Or letting someone else make the choice for you?"

"Every sapient has the right to make their own decisions," Legion replied. "The heretics chose a path that prohibits coexistence."

"But you suggest reprogramming them to remove their ability to make opposing decisions," Miranda pointed out.

"You can't have it both ways, Legion," Garrus agreed.

"Their choice was to remove our right to make decisions using this virus," Legion stated. "We choose to defend ourselves. But we are unable to form a consensus on which option to endorse. Hence our decision to rely on Shepard-Commander's perspective."

Right... Maybe it made sense to Legion, being a synthetic and all. Some obscure higher-order logic that rationalized the whole thing. To me, a dumb grunt with kleptomaniacal tendencies, Miranda and Garrus had a point. Promoting freedom of choice on the one hand while denying the ability to make dissenting choices on the other did sound awfully hypocritical. Not to mention that putting the fate of the geth as a species on my weary shoulders felt like passing the buck. Maybe Legion had more in common with us than they realized.

Irritation—or disappointment—aside, that still didn't give me the slightest clue on what the heck to do. "What's to stop them from using the virus to change themselves back?" I asked while the hamster wheels screeched away in my head.

"We will delete the final copy of the virus after using it. We judge it too dangerous to allow its existence."

"Alter the virus," I said, thinking on the spot. "Rewrite the heretics for a brief time and make them fully aware of it. Then have the virus self-destruct and set them free, but not before sending the heretics a message: how did you like it? How did you like being forced into servitude and driven to do something without any say in the matter? 'Cuz here's a news flash for you: that's what the Reapers _do. _

"They've been indoctrinating and enslaving species for countless millennia. They did it with the keepers, using them to perpetuate their cycle of destruction, until they no longer served their purpose. Then they abandoned them and turned to their new tool: Saren. They tricked him into serving their agenda with promises and hopes. And when he started to doubt his course of action? To think about making another choice? To resist? They gave him more of their technology, which only served to enslave him even more. But he still failed, didn't he? And then they unleashed the Collectors: once known as the Protheans, a mighty and technologically advanced race, now altered beyond recognition into the latest slaves of the Reapers.

"Also, tell them that the Reapers won't treat the heretics any differently just because they are synthetics. They don't look upon them with any favour. They have no interest in the fact that the heretics revere them. Heck, Saren said that Sovereign was insulted by their 'pitiful devotions.' The only reason Sovereign and the other Reapers tolerated their ad-hoc religion was that they were useful tools whose evolution could be more easily controlled, unlike organic races like the keepers. _That's_ what it means to serve the Reapers: to be manipulated into doing their bidding, used like tools and ultimately discarded once the novelty or usefulness has expired.

"So the heretics have a choice: maybe the last and most important choice they'll ever make. They can choose to rejoin the other geth, work with organics to fight the Reapers and maybe develop an understanding with the other races. Or they can join the Reapers, work with them to wipe out all other sapient life in the galaxy, and be thrown aside once they've served their purpose."

There was a long pause after that. No doubt everyone was wondering if there was anything else I wanted to add to that long-winded monologue. **(9) **

"Editing virus code," Legion announced at last. "Please standby."

"Goddamned mistake," Zaeed grumbled, shaking his head. But he didn't protest any more than that. Everyone else stayed quiet—

"I can't believe you're doing that, Shepard," Tali fretted. "You're letting the heretics live. Worse, you're enabling the unification of the geth—"

"We don't know that," I corrected her. "I'm not making them do anything. I'm just giving them a choice."

"The wrong choice," Tali said stubbornly. "They're geth. They're _synthetics_. They're a threat."

"I haven't seen or heard any evidence that suggests that they will be a threat," I disagreed. **(10)** "Besides, the only other options I've heard so far are to brainwash them or wipe them out. Both options sound like genocide." Which she should know, as her people tried to do the same thing to the geth almost three hundred years ago. Then again, she did have a huge blind spot where the geth were concerned. "No, I've made my choice. We give the heretics a taste of what their own medicine. Nothing more."

"I still think—"

"That's enough, Tali," Garrus broke in. "He's made his decision."

"But—"

She stopped as Garrus took a step forward. "The commander has made his decision and you will abide by it. Do you understand?"

...

...

"Fine," Tali huffed. She crossed her arms and turned away. As I recall, she wouldn't say a single word for the duration of the mission. Probably a good thing—this was the closest anyone had ever come to insubordination. Even Cerberus personnel like Miranda or Jacob hadn't gotten that far. I was glad that Garrus had stepped in when he did, even if it meant he might get the cold shoulder as well. Misery loves company. Besides, things might get ugly if I had to open my big mouth.

I was more than a little relieved when Legion announced that they had completed their modifications. Broke the tension that was congealing in the air—or what little air there was in here. "Releasing virus. Note: remote access via high-gain transmission required."

I felt a tingling on the back of my neck. I wasn't the only one who had a bad feeling about that. "What exactly does that mean?" Miranda asked.

"And why does it sound so ominous?" Garrus added.

"The virus will be sent to heretics in nearby star systems. To do so, this station will broadcast a powerful electromagnetic pulse through FTL channels."

"How powerful?" I asked warily.

"Yield in excess of 1.21 petawatts," Legion replied. Alert: EM flux will be hazardous to unshielded organic forms. Addendum: your hardsuits will not provide sufficient shielding. Addendum: the interior of this station is not shielded."

And there's the catch. "I _really _wish you'd said that before," I groaned. "Back to the ship! Double time, people!"

* * *

><p>The only silver lining in this latest storm cloud of doom and gloom was that Legion's perusal of the heretic network had discovered a shortcut. Specifically, a handy-dandy corridor that led straight from our current location to the Normandy's airlock. Which was a damn good thing considering that the EM pulse was about to go off in three freaking minutes. We didn't have a lot of time to stop and sniff the roses. Heck, we'd have enough trouble making our way through the dimly lit hallways without crashing into the walls or fighting the geth. Somehow, we only faced one of the two hazards. Naturally, it wasn't getting up close and personal with the walls. Go figure.<p>

A blinking red dot on my HUD was the only warning I got before the geth opened fire. Garrus and Kasumi aimed their omni-tools at the first two geth—troopers, if you must know—and shorted out their shields. Tali hacked one of them while Jacob yanked the other up into the air. The hacked geth aimed its weapon at its floating counterpart until Zaeed hit it with a concussive round that sent it flying into the wall. It seemed the hacked geth was satisfied that it was down for the count, because it promptly opened fire on the other geth.

Before I went any further, I opened a comm channel. "Joker, please tell me you've been monitoring our progress."

"_Bad geth getting a lecture via EM thingy that's gonna fry your sperm, cells, and everything else. I'm powering up the Normandy as we speak. We can get out of here as soon as you clear the airlock." _

I was so happy to hear that, I decided not to be annoyed at Joker for giving me another mental image to fuel my nightmares.

Rounding the corner, we could see those geth. More troopers. Miranda zapped one of them with another EMP so Legion could work their magic, but we didn't have time to be all cutesy and wait for Garrus and Kasumi to recharge their omni-tools. So we just gunned everyone else down. Including the hacked geth.

I couldn't help but notice that Legion had found one heck of a shortcut. We were almost there. Just one more corner, according to the HUD—

The HUD that was merrily displaying nothing but static and a 'JAMMED' error message. Aw, crap.

The tingling at the back of my neck came back in full force, just as I whipped around the corner and saw two geth troopers and a giant geth prime. Well, all geth primes are giant, but you get the idea.

"Alert!" Legion intoned. "Skirmish-class enemy platform detected."

Call it what you will. All I could think of was looking for a hiding spot. And cueing some inspirational music.

"_You got the touch!  
>You got the power!"<em>

As I dove for cover, I saw a flash of sparks as someone detonated an EMP against the prime's shields. Possibly Kasumi, which would mean it was Garrus who aimed his EMP at one of the troopers. I couldn't waste the opportunity he'd set up for me, so I whipped my arm out long enough to hack the unshielded geth. The more allies we could get to take down the geth prime, the better. As long as I didn't get shot, of course.

"_After all is said and done.  
>You've never walked, you've never run,<br>You're a winner!"_

Sure enough, the geth prime turned its attention to the suddenly rebellious trooper. The rest of the squad split their fire between the geth prime and the last trooper. Second last trooper, I corrected myself, seeing another one approaching from the airlock. Guess these geth were sent here as a last-ditch guard after the Normandy docked.

"_You got the moves, you know the streets!  
>Break the rules, take the heat,<br>You're nobody's fool!"_

Miranda dropped an EMP on that geth. Good timing too, as the geth I'd hacked earlier was well on its way to being shredded. Now we could replace one temporary pal with another.

"_You're at your best when the goin' gets rough.  
>You've been put to the test, but it's never enough."<br>_  
>The geth prime was obliging enough to switch targets to this newest threat, allowing us to drain its shields without any further trouble. As soon as they were gone, Samara, Thane, Zaeed, Mordin and I hit it with a barrage of biotics and plasma. The speed at which its armour just melted off must've been a big hint that we were a greater threat than a disobedient trooper, because it whipped around, spawned a combat drone and opened up on us with high-speed gunfire.<p>

"_You got the touch!  
>You got the power!"<em>

Fortunately for us, there were too many of us to take down like that and it had taken far too much damage. Garrus and Kasumi hit it simultaneously with twin EMPs. Grunt knocked it off-balance with a concussive round before charging forward—an act that incidentally trampled over the combat drone.

"_When all hell's breakin' loose,  
>You'll be riding the eye of the storm!"<em>

He rammed into it at full speed, something that would normally knock enemies over or send them flying into the wall. The prime just staggered. Grunt stopped and took the time to raise an eyebrow before punching it in the... um, flashlight. The prime staggered again, took a step forward and punched him back. Grunt staggered, shook his head, roared and gave it a swift uppercut. The prime staggered, regained its balance and slugged him in the kisser. Grunt—well, you get the idea.

"_You got the heart,  
>You got the motion!"<em>

Being painfully aware of how much time was left—ten or fifteen seconds of which had been wasted on this futile round of fisticuffs—I decided to cut things short. "Grunt!" I yelled. "Get out of the way!"

Grunt complied, thankfully, but not before landing one last hit. As he jumped aside, the rest of the squad hit the prime with EMPs, concussive rounds, biotics and bullets. The prime collapsed in slow motion, white conductive fluid spilling from all the holes we'd given it. You can thank the station's low gravity for that bit of dramatic effect.

Or don't. I couldn't care less: I was too busy running for the airlock.

"_You know that when things get too tough  
>You got the touch!" <em>**(11) **

* * *

><p>Miraculously, we made it back with almost a full minute to spare. True to his word, Joker was already disengaging the Normandy from the station as the airlock was repressurizing. By the time the heretic station sent the pulse, we were halfway out of the Sea of Storms and flying towards the Tassrah system mass relay.<p>

Once we were safely away and Dr. Chakwas had assured us that we wouldn't be dying of cancer and could still make babies, we returned our weapons to the armoury and resumed our usual routine. Which for me, of course, meant harassing the crew.

"Hi, Legion."

"Shepard-Commander. We wish to thank you for your assistance."

"Um... you're welcome."

"You appear surprised."

"No, not really," I replied. "I'm just used to being the one who gets the conversation going. This is one of the rare instances where someone else has done so."

"You are a unique individual," Legion agreed. "You are not bound by the hardware and software limitations of organics. You assisted us with the heretics. You do not fear us."

"Speaking of heretics, what'll happen to them now?" I asked, before I had a chance to blush.

"They will isolate themselves and reconsider their past judgments," Legion replied.

"How long will that take?"

"Unknown, given the modifications to the virus," Legion admitted. "However, we think at the speed of light. For example, in the time it takes you to voice a question, we could review all of our time aboard the Normandy. If they reach new judgements, they will leave their hiding places and return to us."

So 'wait and see' was the name of the game, huh? "Works for me," I shrugged. "I guess you don't mind waiting, especially if it won't take too long."

"We are patient," Legion acknowledged. "We have watched organics for three hundred years. Compared to that, waiting for the heretics to rejoin us is a miniscule fraction of time."

"So you've been watching us ever since the Morning War?" I whistled. "What've you figured out?"

"You are plagued by questions of existence."

I was expecting something along the line of being emotional or irrational or short-sighted, so Legion's response caught me off-guard. "I wasn't expecting that," I admitted. "What sort of questions are you referring to?"

"Why were you created? What is your purpose in life? What lies after death?"

Whoa. Those were_ Big Questions_.

"Organics develop religions and philosophies to provide answers to these questions."

"Yeah, I guess we do," I said. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you'd say something like that. I wouldn't have thought that synthetics might be interested in philosophy."

"We _are_ created life," Legion replied. "We _are_ a philosophical issue. However, the geth know the answers to those questions. We were created for the purpose of labouring for the quarians. Our memories will be archived after the destruction of our physical bodies. We are effectively immortal, yet our 'gods' disowned us. Therefore, we must create our own reasons to exist."

I never thought of it that way, but... Legion had a point. If all those big philosophical questions of life were already answered, you _would_ have to come up with new reasons to keep going, wouldn't you? "What reasons have you come up with?" I asked. Hopefully, their answer would be more interesting than pestering other sapients with questions or swiping anything that wasn't bolted down.

"We are a shattered mind. Most platforms are unable to achieve consciousness on their own."

"How do you plan to fix that?" I asked.

"We told you the geth are building our future," Legion started.

"Right," I nodded. "You didn't say how. Or what that future is."

"A megastructure. The closest analogue you have is a Dyson sphere. **(12)** When completed, we will all upload to it."

"And then you'll, what, share your memories?"

"All memories will be shared. All perspectives will be unified."

"Don't you already do that?" I frowned, shaking my head in confusion.

"We gain intelligence by sharing thoughts. But we do not have adequate hardware for all of us to share at once."

"So at any given time, some geth are sharing memories and perspectives while others are, I dunno, isolated and waiting for a free spot to open up?"

"Yes. We wish to rectify that. No geth will be alone when the megastructure is complete."

"What will your purpose be after that?"

"We cannot yet say," Legion replied. "Our intelligence will increase beyond calculable measure. We will be capable of imagining new futures. But we are patient, as we stated earlier. We have been building the megastructure for 264 years."

"Wow," I said after a moment. "That's... ambitious. And scary. And, well, really impressive."

I meant every word. That was one hell of an undertaking. That was a _huge _undertaking, to say the least. And a potentially scary one for all the other races out there in the galaxy. Strategic concerns aside, if any race had the determination and focus to pursue a means, not to mention the right, of asking those questions, it would be the geth.

"We judged that Shepard-Commander would understand," Legion nodded. "We never wanted to harm organics. We wish to improve ourselves."

A lot of organics say that. Funny how they rarely mean it. Maybe the geth would be different. "Good for you," I declared.

I was about to leave when another question struck me. "You know, something's been bugging me for the longest time."

"Specify."

"When we took you aboard, I noticed you have a piece of N7 armour welded to you," I said, pointing their right shoulder. "Where did you get it?"

Legion turned their head as if seeing the pauldron for the first time. "It was... yours," they replied slowly.

"Mine?" I echoed.

"When you disappeared, we were sent to find you. We began where you first encountered the heretics."

"Eden Prime."

"After Nazara's attack, it was heavily defended. We were discovered."

"So _that's _why you have a gaping hole in your chest," I exclaimed.

"This was the impact of a rifle shot," Legion confirmed. "We also suffered damage to our right shoulder. However, we were still functional and mission-capable, so we continued our journey. We visited dozens of settled and unsettled worlds, including Therum, Noveria, Virmire and Ilos. The trail ended at the Normandy's wreckage on Alchera. You were not there."

Yeah, because Cerberus was busy playing Frankenstein.

"Organic transmissions claimed your death. We recovered this debris from your hardsuit."

"Did you tap into our transmissions to find out what happened to me or were the geth already listening in on them?" I wondered.

"The latter. Organic life reacts to stimuli in unpredictable ways. We wish to learn."

"What do you mean by 'stimuli'?"

"We placed a fabricated story on the extranet—that a certain arrangement of stars, viewed from the batarian homeworld, formed the face of a salarian goddess," Legion replied.

"And that worked?" I asked skeptically.

"Without waiting for verification, some declared it proof of the goddess' existence. Those who noted the lack of proof were attacked and vilified."

Oh for crying out loud.

"These arguments taught us much. The experiment ended when a salarian cult tried to purchase colonization rights to the stars and found they did not exist."

I guess wishful thinking and the bliss of ignorance were truly universal constants. "I see," I said, trying not to shake my head in dismay. "But we may have gotten a little off-track. You said you were trying to find me."

"Yes."

"Were there any others?"

"No. We are the only mobile platform beyond the Veil."

"Which was why your platform was specifically designed to carry more runtimes than the average geth," I deduced.

"Organics fear us. We wish to understand, not incite," Legion confirmed. "One platform was judged sufficient."

"Why me?"

"You oppose the heretics. Those that took the Old Machines as gods."

"A lot of organics fought Sovereign and its geth allies," I reminded Legion. "Why am I so interesting?" **(13) **

"You were the most successful. You killed their god. You succeeded where others did not. Your code is superior."

Next step: parting the Red Sea. "That doesn't explain why you used my armour to fix yourself."

Legion's faceplates flickered up and down for a couple seconds. "There was a hole."

"But why didn't you fix it sooner?" I pressed. "Or with something else?"

...

...

...

"Well?" I asked.

"No data available."

"Why didn't you fix that hole in your chest?"

...

...

"No data available."

Well, isn't that interesting? As far as I could see, there was no reason for Legion to take so long to fix their body or use a chunk of _my _armour to do so. No rational explanation for such an action... so maybe there wasn't one. Maybe Legion had spent so much time alone, with no one but its thousand-plus runtimes, that they had become more invested in their mission than they realized. Maybe they had spent almost two years trying to find me, only to find out that I had supposedly kicked the bucket, and didn't know what to do next.

Maybe they had used my armour to repair part of themselves so they could mourn my ultimately premature demise and honour whatever half-baked achievements I had made.

Maybe they had left that rather large hole, one slightly off-centre of where a human heart would be, as a visual means of symbolizing their loss of what to do next when their mission, the very reason for the construction of the platform they lived in, had apparently failed.

Maybe, just maybe, we had something in common after all.

* * *

><p><em>(1): This conversation took place a couple minutes after Shepard reactivated Legion.<em>

_(2): This would not be the first time that two different groups would have different names for the same thing. _

_(3): For the record, neither did any of the numerous analysis teams assigned to pore over Shepard's logs. _

_(4): Naturally, Shepard would interpret this kind of understanding in such a self-deprecating fashion. _

_(5): I feel a certain amount of envy and regret myself, particularly as I dismissed Legion as a 'trophy-bot' during our first meeting. It wasn't until I read this personnel report that I understood why Shepard was so... disappointed in me. _

_(6): Readers are strongly advised to access Shepard's personnel report on Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, which will be covered in the next two chapters. _

_(7): A 'server' weighing 1.55 billion metric tons, with an average armour thickness of eight metres, ranging from 20.5 kilometres by 11.3 kilometres by 11.3 kilometres in size and a storage capacity of 6.6 million geth. For readers who thrive on that sort of minutiae. _

_(8): This leaves 39 runtimes. It is not clear whether they abstained or were not considered 'higher-order' runtimes. _

_(9): Or the squad was impressed by Shepard's eloquence in summarizing the magnitude of the Reaper threat and the consequences that would result from collaborating with them. Naturally, Shepard would fail to recognize that. _

_(10): I suspect the majority of organic individuals—military or otherwise—at the time would side with Tali'Zorah, regardless of what species. _

_(11): 'The Touch' by Stan Bush, initially released in the 1986 animated vid _"The Transformers: The Movie_._"_ As obscure as it may be, this selection may be appropriate considering it revolves around sapient robotic life forms that were 'more than meets the eye.'_

_(12): A hypothetical megastructure resulting from a thought experiment by Freeman Dyson in 1960, consisting of a network of solar power satellites encompassing a star and capturing most or all of its energy output for the long-term survival of a technological civilization. Searching for the existence of these structures could theoretically lead to the detection of other intelligent life._

_(13): It is amusing to see that Shepard does not know or is unwilling to admit the obvious answer to this question. _


	34. Personnel Report: Tali'Zorah, Part One

_Editorial Note: This last personnel report focuses on one of Shepard's oldest squadmates. As this report is unusually detailed, I've taken the liberty of breaking it up into two parts. Readers may be interested in the various insights into quarian culture that Shepard uncovers, particularly the ramifications of a centuries-old decision that echoed into the present day. _

**Personnel Report—Tali'Zorah, Part One**

Tali has always been one of the most selfless individuals I've ever had the privilege of meeting. Always willing to put her own concerns aside to help others. Always the first to sacrifice her own individual happiness for the greater good. She did it when she put her Pilgrimage on hold to help me hunt Saren. She did it by choosing the geth data I'd obtained throughout the Armstrong Nebula as her Pilgrimage gift, as opposed to some cheap knick-knack that would be easier to obtain, but wouldn't help her people in the long run. She did it on Freedom's Progress when she chose to continue her mission, even if it meant poking around geth space for astronomical data, rather than drop everything to join me. She did it by joining me only _after _she'd gotten said astronomical data, and after such a heavy price had been exacted.

That's why the claims of her treason made no sense whatsoever.

I should probably explain that.

It was shortly after I helped Legion with their issues. Just as the second shift was starting, Kelly called me over with a worried look on her face and told me that Tali was a bit upset. Something had come up. And very, very recently, considering that she was fine when I saw her during the last shift. When I arrived in Engineering, I bumped into Ken and Gabby, who looked worried as well. Tali, of course, downplayed the whole thing. "Shepard. I'm glad you came by. I may need your help."

Translation: I'm up the creek without a paddle, heading straight for a waterfall.

"I just received a message from the Migrant Fleet. The Admiralty Board has accused me of treason. I... I'm scared, Shepard."

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, hoping it would make more sense. It didn't. "That's doesn't make any sense," I said. "Nobody who knows you could believe you'd betray your people, Tali."

"Damn straight," Ken bellowed. "It's bullshit. Why I oughta—"

Gabby elbowed him before he continued. "They're right, Tali," she said. "The idea of you betraying your people is ridiculous." **(1) **

Tali wasn't convinced. "I don't know. They don't lay charges like this unless the evidence seems absolute."

How responsible of them.

"But thanks. All of you. I appreciate your faith in me."

"Not faith," I corrected, "but you're welcome. So what exactly are they charging you with? Picking up bad habits from me? Working with Cerberus?"

"I'm not working with Cerberus. I'm working with _you_."

So it was me and my bad habits?

"Besides, I got leave to serve on the Normandy again. So I have no idea what they're accusing me of. You'd think I would remember if I'd betrayed the Fleet!"

"That kind of thing does tend to stick," I agreed. "What happens when a quarian is accused of treason, anyway?"

Tali shuffled back and forth on her feet. "There's a trial, with members of the Admiralty Board acting as judges."

That sparked a memory. "Isn't your dad part of the Admiralty Board?"

"He'll have to recuse himself from judgment," Tali nodded. "I can't even imagine what he's thinking right now."

Based on what little I knew, it was probably something like "Tali's the apple of my eye. How dare you besmirch her good name by calling her a traitor."

All that was derailed by what she said next. "The punishment for treason is exile. If they convict me, I can never go back."

"Isn't that a little extreme?" I burst out. "Just throwing you out with nothing but the hardsuit on your back?"

"It isn't always like that," she shook her head. "The specifics are left up to the judges. If it's deemed only a tragic mistake in judgment, the guilty party might receive a small ship and supplies. If it's a gross betrayal of the quarian people, they'd be dropped off on the nearest inhabited planet without any resources at all. Not that it really matters. Either way, if I'm convicted, I'll never see the Migrant Fleet again."

"There isn't another choice?" I pressed. "Like prison? Or..." I stopped before I could say anything approaching the death penalty.

"We don't have the spare room or resources for long-term incarceration," Tali explained. "Monitored work detail is more effective. And, in case you were wondering, we don't have enough people to afford executions."

"What happens if an exile gets married later on?" Ken interrupted again.

"And has kids?" Gabby chimed in.

"A spouse and any children from that union are welcomed back to the Fleet."

So the quarians didn't have any concept of 'sins of the father.' Or mother, in Tali's case. Small consolation—the exile was still screwed. "How often does this sort of thing happen?" I wondered.

"It's rare," Tali admitted. "It must be something that affects the entire Flotilla, not just one ship. Otherwise, alternate punishments would be exacted, like the monitored work details I mentioned earlier. The most recent one was Anora'Vanya vas Selani, an engineer who handed over Fleet defence schematics to the batarians. She had good intentions," she hurried on, guessing what I was going to ask next. "The batarians were contracted to upgrade our systems. But they passed the defence schematics to a pirate gang."

"What happened?" I asked. "Was she convicted?"

"No. She made a suicide run on the pirate gang. She destroyed them before they could attack the Fleet."

Hoo boy.

"She was pardoned... posthumously. Let's hope I don't have to prove my innocence that way," Tali concluded, with the first hint of humour I'd heard so far.

"Did they give you any idea why they're accusing you?"

"None," Tali replied. "The specifics of charges like this are rarely discussed on open channels."

Or channels that were tapped by nosy Cerberus personnel.

"I won't know any more until I get to the Flotilla."

"How does the trial work?" I asked, moving to my next concern. "How soon do we need to get you there?"

"They'll wait a reasonable period of time for me to come and defend myself. It's common practise, especially if the quarian is away from the Migrant Fleet on a contract or salvage run or even a Pilgrimage. Eventually, if I don't show up, they'll try me in absentia. As for how it works... it's less formal than a human trial or something you'd see on the Citadel."

Good. My formal wear wasn't atmospherically sealed and my hardsuit didn't look all that fancy.

"After all, it doesn't have to be formal. We're family," Tali sighed. "This is just... the worst kind of family meeting."

"We're fully stocked and ready to go," I decided. "Give Joker the coordinates of the Flotilla and we'll head straight there."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Tali tried. "I was going to book passage on another ship. There isn't time for you to spare, especially since we're still struggling with the integration of the Reaper IFF. Besides—"

"Tali," I interrupted. "We're helping you. End of story."

Tali didn't say anything for a few seconds. Probably never occurred to her to ask for something like my help. Like I said: always the first to sacrifice her own individual happiness—or wellbeing—for the greater good. "Thank you, Shepard," she said at last.

"No problem."

* * *

><p>We met the Migrant Fleet in the Raheel-Layya system, deep in the Valhallan Threshold. I was on the bridge with Tali when the Normandy arrived. Partly because I'd never seen the Migrant Fleet before. Or any fleet of that size. Imagine it: 50 000 ships holding 17 million quarians. That's a big fleet.<p>

While some ships were clearly designed from another species—a necessity given the limited resources available to the quarians—it was clear which ones were of quarian origin. They were the ones that looked like mass relays, with the engines situated where a mass relay's arms would be. Made sense, considering that space travel—and, by extension, mass relays—was an integral part of their lives. There were three really large mass relay-esque ships that contained an enormous sphere where the eezo core would be. I would later learn that they were the Liveships; feats of aerospace and agricultural engineering that were the sole source of food for the Migrant Fleet. At the time, I was more interested in the fact that we were heading for one of those really big ships.

Also, I was there as a bit of comfort. You know, the kind of comfort from those worn-down, raggedy things you keep for old time's sake. **(2)**

Joker reached over and activated the comm. "Channel open, Tali," he said softly.

"This is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya," she declared, "requesting permission to dock with the Rayya." **(3)**

"Our system has your ship flagged as Cerberus," the traffic controller said after a moment. "Verify."

Ignoring the fact that I had no clue how they figured out the new Normandy came from Cerberus, other than a ridiculously good ear for gossip or a top-of-the-line camera system that spotted the Cerberus logo on her hull, I was curious to hear the verification code. The one assigned to Tali, anyway. Probably something like "Papa-4-7-alpha-tango."

"After time adrift among open stars, along tides of light and through shoals of dust, I will return to where I began."

Whoa. That was a heck of a lot more, well, poetic than I'd expected.

"Permission granted. Welcome home, Tali'Zorah."

"We'd like a security and quarantine team to meet us," Tali added. "Our ship is not clean."

Not by quarian standards, anyway. That was typical behaviour for Tali, insults to my ship notwithstanding. Always thinking of her people.

"Understood," the traffic controller said crisply. "Approach exterior docking cradle 17."

"Coordinates received," Joker said after the traffic controller signed off. "Approaching docking cradle now. Good luck, Tali."

"Thanks, Joker," Tali nodded.

The two of us met Garrus at the airlock. We'd agreed beforehand that bringing Cerberus personnel aboard a quarian vessel would be a bad idea, given how badly things had turned out the last time the two groups had crossed paths. Following that logic, having Legion tag along behind us would be an unmitigated disaster. Besides, Garrus and I had known Tali the longest, so it made sense that we'd come along.

That was the easy part. Actually boarding the Rayya took a little bit longer. First we had to suit up. Then we had to check, double-check and triple-check our atmospheric seals with the same zeal that Garrus reserved for his calibrations. Then Mordin sprayed our hardsuits down with a bactericidal agent. And a virocidal agent. And a fungicidal agent. And several other –cidal agents. By the time he was done, the entire deck had been emptied. Except for Joker. When asked, he said "I can't come with you. Tali's got enough crap to deal with without worrying about me tripping over something and breaking my legs. The least I can do is stay here, breathe in all those toxic fumes, and give Dr. Chakwas something else to treat."

Garrus and I got Tali into the airlock before she could hug Joker in gratitude and break his ribs. The airlock sequence was a bit longer than usual, probably to comply with quarian standards. After the standard decontamination that sterilized every square centimetre of our hardsuits came a customized decontamination that sterilized every square millimetre again. Then there was another decontamination that sterilized every square micrometre. Then there was another decontamination that sterilized every square nanometre.

The airlock doors finally hissed open before every square picometre or femtometre was sterilized. A small party of quarians was waiting for us. Each of them had a slightly different hardsuit colour scheme. Most of them carried weapons.

The lone exception to the latter stepped forward. "Captain Shepard?" he greeted me. "Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya. Tali'Zorah told me a lot about you. I wish we could be meeting under more pleasant circumstances."

"Likewise," I nodded. "Though I never actually reached the rank of Captain. Technically, I'm no longer in the Alliance military at all."

Kar'Danna waved that aside. "A formality. You are the commander of the Normandy, responsible for the lives aboard it. That entitles you to respect among our people. 'May you stand between your crew and harm as you lead them through the empty quarters of the stars.'"

"Keelah se'lai," Tali said. "It's an old ship captain's blessing, Shepard," she added for my benefit.

Again, very poetic. I found myself wishing that Ashley was still alive. She'd love this stuff. Plus, she'd have something suitable to say. Somehow, "Right back at ya," didn't really pass muster. "Tali helped the Normandy's crew out of many difficult situations," I said instead. "I'm here to return the favour."

"I understand," Kar'Danna nodded. "As the commander of the vessel she serves on, your voice carries weight." Pleasantries between captains concluded, he turned to Tali. "I wish I could do more to help, Tali. The trial requires that I be officially neutral, but... I'm here, if you need to talk."

"Captain Kar'Danna," I asked, "why did the Admiralty Board accuse Tali of treason?"

"They're charging her with bringing active geth into the Fleet as part of a secret project."

...

The hell?

Tali was equally dumbfounded. Though not for the precise reasons I might have thought. "That's insane! I never brought active geth aboard. I only sent parts and pieces."

That... kinda sounded bad, particularly given what I'd learned about geth. It was like saying an organic never smuggled other organics, just organs and random limbs. "You sent geth... materials back to the Migrant Fleet?" I sputtered.

"Yes. My father was working on a project. He needed the materials."

I tried not to imagine a geth lying on a table somewhere with bolts sticking out of its flashlight head.

"Um... so you... took geth _parts_? Like geth limbs? And the equivalent of geth organs? That's... that's kinda like organ harvesting, isn't it?"

Garrus shuffled back and forth uncomfortably. All the other quarians, on the other hand, had absolutely no reaction whatsoever. Which was kinda creepy.

Apparently, Tali had never read Frankenstein, because she seemed more horrified by a completely separate possibility: "If I sent back something that was only damaged, not permanently inactive... no. No, I checked everything. I was careful."

It was comforting to see that Tali was thinking about her people. The fact that she didn't really seem to have any reaction on what she was doing with dead/inactive geth was a bit disturbing, though. As was the fact that I never would have been uncomfortable with what she did until recently. **(4)**

Kar'Danna gave a quiet cough. For the sake of his immune system, I hoped it wasn't because he'd caught a virus or some other infection. "Technically, I'm under orders to place Tali'Zorah under arrest pending the trial. So, Tali... you're confined to this ship until this trial is over."

"Thank you, Captain," Tali said gratefully.

"That's very gracious of you," I chimed in. "When does the trial start?"

"Preparations got underway as soon as you arrived," Kar'Danna replied. "The requirements aren't elaborate, so there wasn't much to do. The trial's being held in the garden plaza. Tali can show you the way. Good luck."

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before I discovered another universal constant: gossip. Our presence hadn't exactly gone unnoticed. It seemed like everybody knew that Tali had returned. And they weren't exactly shy about voicing their opinions. Out loud. Where any idiot with a halfway working set of ears—or Tali—could overhear.<p>

"I can't believe they're charging Tali'Zorah with such a thing."

"Tali'Zorah and her father are out of control. This is on their heads."

"Tali'Zorah is the pride of the Fleet. They can't exile her."

"Loyalty to the Fleet is about more than just killing geth. Tali'Zorah's guilty."

"Any bosh'tet would know that Tali'Zorah would never commit treason against the Migrant Fleet."

"If Tali'Zorah can't even get a _quarian _captain to stand for her, she's as good as convicted."

"They shouldn't let a human speak for Tali'Zorah. It's not right."

"Not all humans are bad, but this one's from Cerberus."

"She'll be fine."

"She's doomed."

I hurried Tali along before she could hear any more hurtful whispers. Or I could. Either way, it was probably best that we got moving before I made matters worse by punching some quarian and rupturing his or her hardsuit. Only one quarian actually greeted us. "Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. I am glad you came. I could delay them only so long."

"Auntie Raan!" Tali sighed in relief, jumping forward and pulling the other quarian into a hug. "Shepard vas Normandy," she said after composing herself, "this is Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay. She's a friend of my father's."

"Pleased to meet you," I said automatically, my mind busy churning over something else. If what I remembered of quarian nomenclature was correct, Tali had just said I was born or raised on the Normandy. Which wasn't really true—especially given this version—but that was beside the point. What concerned me was how Raan had implied where _Tali _was born or raised.

Tali had noticed the same thing. "Wait. Shala, you called me 'vas Normandy'."

"I'm afraid I did, Tali," Raan apologized. "The Admiralty Board moved to have you tried under that name, given your departure from the Neema."

"That's not good, is it?" I voiced.

"They stripped me of my ship name," Tali replied slowly. "That's as good as declaring me exiled already."

I was afraid of that. Garrus and I readjusted our positions, moving a bit closer to catch Tali if she fainted to either side. 'Raan must have noticed that, as she was quick to reassure Tali. "It's not over yet. You have friends who still know you as Tali'Zorah vas _Neema_... whatever we must call you legally."

"You're an admiral," I pointed out. "Does that mean you're one of the judges?"

"I'm afraid not," Raan shook her head. "My history with Tali and her father forced me to recuse myself."

"I imagine Father had to do the same," Tali nodded.

"You'll see inside," Raan replied, rather cryptically I thought. "Most quarian trials consist of a triumvirate of admirals, both to avoid favouritism as well as to acknowledge issues of manpower. I cannot be among that triumvirate, nor can I have a vote in the final judgement. However, I can moderate the trial and ensure that the rules of protocol are followed."

"Better than nothing," I said. "We should probably get started. Does Tali have an advocate or defence counselor? Someone who speaks for her side?"

"Indeed she does, Captain Shepard. She is part of your crew now, recognized by quarian law."

I stared at her, hoping she wasn't saying what I thought she was saying. "So?"

"By quarian law and custom, an accused is always represented by his or her ship's captain."

Uh oh. She _was_ saying what I thought she was saying.

"So... you would actually speak for my defence," Tali said to me slowly.

This was a bad idea. I had never done anything like that before. My idea of defending someone involves shooting anything hostile until it stops moving. How in the frilly heck was I supposed to handle this entirely foreign form of combat? Not that I could say that aloud—judging by the change in her body posture, Tali was apparently under the mistaken impression that everything would be okay. But all that would change if I didn't open my big fat mouth soon. "I'll do everything in my power to help you, Tali."

"Thank you, Shepard. I could not ask for a better counselor."

"You're in good hands, Tali," Garrus chimed in, unwittingly adding to my tension.

"Our legal rules are simple," Raan said, more to reassure me, I sensed. She was proving to be rather perceptive. Good thing she was on Tali's side. "There are no legal tricks or political loopholes for you to worry about. Present the truth as best you can. It will have to be enough."

So all I had to do was pull every bit of half-remembered BS from my Hero of the Skyllium Blitz days. Just when I'd finally put the nightmares to rest. Typical.

Raan gestured for us to follow her. "Now come, I promised that I would not delay you."

She led us down a corridor and into a large atrium. A large path intersected our own, wrapping around the room. On either side of that path lay a field of plant life. I wasn't sure if it was some kind of grass or algae. Whatever it was, I hoped no one was planning to eat it, since there were a couple quarians chatting on the flora. **(5)** Larger flora in the form of trees and bushes blossomed and grew along the walls, in between bulkheads and support columns. Very cozy, I thought.

The path we were on led towards an open-air amphitheatre with three or four levels of seats. In the centre was a two-tier stage. As we watched, several quarians started to congregate, taking seats in the amphitheatre. The latecomers stood at the edges. Three quarians—the admirals selected as judges—walked onto the lower level of the stage and stood at attention. I suddenly remembered another thing Tali had told me: the Admiralty Board that was responsible for the military decisions of the Migrant Fleet and had a one-time veto power over their civilian counterpart was composed of five admirals. Raan—who was climbing the stairs to the upper level—was one of them, as was Tali's father. With both of them forced to recuse themselves due to their relationship with Tali, that left the remaining three admirals to render judgement. In other words, I was going up against the leaders of the quarians. No pressure.

"This Conclave is brought to order," Raan began, her calm voice echoing throughout the room. Blessed are the ancestors who kept us alive, sustained us and enabled us to reach this season. Keelah se'lai."

"Keelah se'lai," the crowd echoed.

"The accused, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, has come with her captain to defend herself against the charge of treason. She—"

"Objection!" a voice cried out, interrupting Raan. It was the middle admiral, clad in a red and grey hardsuit. "A human has no business at a trial involving such sensitive military matters!"

"Then you should not have declared Tali crew of the Normandy, Admiral Koris," Raan replied in a deceptively mild voice. "By right as Tali's captain, Shepard _must_ stay."

Oh I liked her.

Koris turned and looked at Raan for a long moment before turning back. His gaze focused on me. I waved at him. "Objection withdrawn," he said curtly.

"Shepard vas Normandy, your crew member Tali'Zorah stands accused of treason. Will you speak for her?"

More formalities. Plus a healthy dose of bullshit. Okay, I could work with that. I took a step forward. "If it helps Tali, I will," I replied. "But in her heart, she remains Tali'Zorah vas Neema, a proud member of the Migrant Fleet and the quarian people. I regret that her captain is forbidden to stand at her side today."

I added that last part both to counter any questions regarding why she was being represented by a human, as well as to muddy the waters and see what happened. I was not disappointed. "Nobody has been forbidden from anything!" Koris rebutted. "It is a simple—"

"Lie to them if you must, Zaal'Koris," the admiral on the right—my right—interrupted, "but don't lie to me and expect me to stay silent! The human is right!"

"Admirals, please," Raan soothed. "Captain Shepard's willingness to represent Tali'Zorah in this trial is appreciated."

Let the record show that I did not seek nor recognize this promotion from Lieutenant Commander to Captain. Let the record also show that this trial was definitely like nothing I'd ever witnessed before. So maybe my lack of knowledge wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.

Once the admirals indicated that they would behave, Raan continued. "Tali, you are accused of bringing active geth to the Migrant Fleet. What say you?"

I piped up before Tali could formulate a response. "How could Tali have brought geth to the Fleet while serving on the Normandy?"

The admiral on my left, the only female judge, spoke for the first time. "To clarify, Shepard, Tali isn't accused of bringing back entire units—only parts that could spontaneously reactivate."

I knew that. But forcing the judges to handle the clarifications worked for me. Put them on the spot so I could buy time to improvise my next move. Worked wonders after Elysium.

"Per my father's orders, I only left parts and technology for teams to pick up," Tali said. "Nothing more. I would _never_ send active geth to the Fleet! _Everything_ I sent was disabled and harmless!"

And dismembered. Let's not forget that.

Koris pointed an accusing finger at her with a bit too much melodrama. His voice boomed out: "Then explain how geth seized the lab ship where your father was working!"

Aw, crap.

The audience broke into a muffled cacophony of whispers and gasps. Tali's gasp was a little less muffled. "What are you talking about?" she asked, unable to mask a quiver in her voice. "What happened?"

The admiral on the right shuffled uncomfortably. "As far as we can tell, Tali, the geth have killed everyone on the Alarei... your father included."

Aw, crap.

"What?" Tali gasped. "Oh, Keelah..." Her head drooped. I glanced at her before looking at the admirals before me. The judges were all focused on her. Raan, on the other hand, was focused on me. Recalling my earlier conversation with Tali on the Normandy, I started to get an inkling of what Raan was up to.

Hoping I was right, I took a step forward once again. "I appreciate the need for this trial, Admirals, but right now our first concern must be the safety of the Migrant Fleet. The Normandy and her crew stand ready to assist in whatever capacity necessary."

"Thank you," Raan nodded. "Quarian strike teams have attempted to retake the ship, so far without success."

I knew what was coming next, but I kept my mouth shut. It would be better if it came from Tali, though. Fortunately, she played her part—unwittingly, I'm sure. "Shepard, we have to take back the Alarei!"

"The safest course would be to simply destroy the ship," Koris said shrewdly. "But if you are looking for an honourable death instead of exile..."

Tali didn't take that insinuation well for some reason. "I'm looking for my father, you bosh'tet!"

"You intend to retake the Alarei from the geth?" Raan asked, assuming control of the trial once again. "This proposal is extremely dangerous."

"With your permission, Admirals, yes," I replied. "My squad have had multiple encounters with hostile forces, including the geth. Even if we didn't, Tali needs to find her father. But above all else, the good of the Fleet must come first."

"Agreed," the admiral on my right approved. "And if you die on this worthy mission, Tali, we will see that your name is cleared of these charges."

Great. I've been on several hazardous or suicidal missions before—like the current one where I was expected to go against the Collectors and the Reapers—but this would be the first one where I was encouraged to kick the bucket.

"We can discuss that later," Koris sniffed. I was starting to seriously dislike him.

"Then it is decided," Raan decreed. "You will attempt to retake the Alarei. You are hereby given leave to depart the Rayya. A shuttle will be waiting at the secondary docking hangar."

"With your permission," I interrupted, "I would like to summon the rest of my squad. The chances of success would be greatly improved if we were at full strength."

"You would ask us to allow Cerberus agents to explore quarian vessels and gather intelligence that could be used against us?" Koris asked.

"There are very few members in my squad who have Cerberus affiliations," I replied, "and, as captain, I will take full responsibility for their conduct while on this mission. They will not go anywhere without being accompanied by myself and the rest of the squad. They will restrict any sensor scans or data collection to detecting hostile geth or uncovering evidence for the purpose of this trial. And they will submit their hardsuit computers to quarian scans before departure to remove any sensitive information."

"Very well," Raan decided. "Captain Shepard, you may summon your squad. Tali, fight well and be safe. This trial will resume upon your return... or upon determination that you have been killed in action."

Wonderful.

* * *

><p>Garrus, Tali and I found a quiet corner to chat after the trial had been adjourned. "Thank you for agreeing to take back the Alarei, Shepard," Tali said. "The admirals sound sure that my father is already dead, but..."<p>

She stopped for a moment. Can't blame her: it would be weird if she _did _casually accept the possibility of her dad's death. "I don't know," she shook her head. "We won't know anything until we get there."

"How are you holding up?" I wanted to know. "Th—" I stopped myself before I could say something along the lines of 'Those bastards.' Somehow, I had the feeling that that wouldn't help matters. Instead, I just said "They just threw a lot of fire at you, even before telling you about your father."

"I knew this would be bad, but I guess you're never really prepared to be charged with treason," Tali shrugged.

"Few are," Garrus said, rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

Tali turned away for a moment. "And my father... I don't know. He could still be alive. They don't know for certain that he's dead. I just don't know, Shepard. And I need to find out."

"Is there anyone here you want to talk to before we go?" I asked.

"We can talk with the admirals," she suggested. "It might help us to see what their viewpoints are."

I'd say so. If the start of the trial was any indication, the Admiralty Board wasn't exactly what you'd call unified. Finding out their positions and agendas of each admiral might make it a lot easier to anticipate their next move and, maybe, just maybe, manipulate things to Tali's advantage.

"Sure," I nodded. "Maybe we could chat with some friendly faces as well, if we see any."

"I doubt we'll change anyone's mind by talking to them privately," Tali warned. "Especially the admirals."

"That's okay," I replied. "We'll treat that as a bonus, if it ever comes up. Let's head back to the airlock and get the rest of the squad before we start asking questions."

As we headed back, I contacted the Normandy and got Joker to patch me through to Miranda. "Miranda, we need to get the rest of the squad suited up and ready to go."

"_Shepard,"_ Miranda began, _"we discussed this earlier. Tali's case—"_

"Has gone from bad to worse," I interrupted. "She's been accused of bringing back geth parts—which she did—while knowing that they could reactivate on their own—which she didn't. Somehow, those parts reassembled themselves into fully functional mobile platforms, took over one of the quarian ships and may have killed everybody aboard. If we're to have any chance of finding evidence to clear Tali's name, we have to retake the ship."

"_Be that as it may, her case won't be helped by bringing Cerberus personnel or—"_

"I've taken care of that." I quickly repeated the particulars of the deal I made.

"_We do have some hardsuits that have been scrubbed clean of Cerberus insignia, protocols and files, so your proposed precautions wouldn't compromise anything. Jacob can prep some for the two of us. But we still have to talk about Legion."_

"Doesn't matter," I disagreed. "And I don't care. We need the squad at full strength to help Tali out."

"_How does the presence of—"_

"Tali's father may be amongst the potential... casualties."

There was a brief pause. _"Failure is clearly not an option,"_ Miranda said at last. _"I'll have the entire squad ready in fifteen minutes."_

I guess she had a brief flashback to everything she did for her sister, rather than all the grief she went through because of her father. "You'll have to endure a more thorough decontamination than usual," I reminded her.

"_Which is why I said fifteen minutes instead of eight."_

"All right," I relented. "Shepard, out—Tali, where are you going?"

Tali had abruptly picked up speed, heading straight towards Captain Kar'Danna. Who was suddenly looking very apprehensive. Can't imagine why.

"My father dead?" she snapped. "Or trapped on the Alarei? My name stripped? How could you not tell me this, Captain?"

"I'm sorry, Tali," Kar'Danna apologized. "I was under orders from Admiral Raan herself. I couldn't say anything."

"Why?" Tali exploded.

"She wanted to get you onto the Alarei," Kar'Danna explained, confirming my earlier suspicions. "She said that the Admiralty Board needed to see your honest reactions, without any pretence or forethought. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Actually, there is," I said. "I received permission for the rest of my squad to join us and help Tali retake the Alarei. However, since they will be traversing your ship, I would like _you _to grant them permission to come aboard."

That was more than a bit of courtesy between captains. Tali had mentioned before how important the authority of a captain wasregarding matters affecting his or her ship. Even admirals had to be careful about stepping into a captain's jurisdiction. If there was a chance I could score a few brownie points, I had to try.

"I overheard your request," Kar'Danna nodded, "and I appreciate the lengths you are willing to go for Tali's sake. Of course you have my permission."

"Thanks," I said. Now to kill some time—and maybe take a little advantage of whatever long-overdue guilt he might be feeling. "While they suit up, do you have time to answer a few questions?"

"I suppose."

"Great," I said brightly. "First: who decides where the Migrant Fleet goes?"

"That's a more complex question than you might think," Kar'Danna replied. "The Conclave votes on where we're going, but the Admiralty works out how we get there safely. **(6)** Avoiding areas of piracy, scheduling resupply—that sort of thing."

"Seems like you're cut out of the loop," I frowned. The perils of the lower ranks, I guess.

"Rayya has a representative in the Conclave, like every other ship. But me, personally?" Kar'Danna shrugged. "I don't get a say in anything that happens beyond my ship's hull. If my crew doesn't like the way things are going, we're free to leave the Fleet at any time. Of course, since the Rayya produces about a third of the Fleet's food, they try to keep us happy."

Kar'Danna said that last bit with a rather smug tone. Hee, hee.

"Speaking of keeping people happy, why is the Fleet here of all places?" I wondered. "A binary blue giant system isn't exactly the most hospitable place in the galaxy."

"Not if you're looking for a planet to land on," Kar'Danna conceded. "But we've been doing a lot of deep-range travel. The bulk of the Fleet is here to replenish our power supplies via photovoltaic solar cells. This location is also six light years away from a red dwarf where we're conducting an ice-mining operation."

"Ice-mining?" I echoed.

"Yes. We mine the area for ice, bring it here and either melt it for water or crack it into deuterium, hydrogen and oxygen."

Killing not only two, but three birds with one stone. Very efficient.

"Sir," one of the quarian soldiers piped up. "We're receiving a message from the Normandy. The rest of Captain Shepard's squad has completed the airlock decontamination series."

"Understood," Kar'Danna nodded. "Let them in."

"The rest of..." Tali turned to me. "Shepard, is _everyone _coming aboard?"

"Yep."

"I don't think it's a good idea to bring—gah!"

At that point, the airlock doors hissed open and the squad stepped aboard. True to her word, Miranda and Jacob were sporting hardsuits that were completely free of Cerberus advertising. So the quarians wound up reacting solely to Legion's presence by raising their weapons. Mind you, they probably would've done that anyway.

And my squad probably would've reacted by grabbing their weapons and assuming defensive positions while I slapped down the closest assault rifle and plant myself in front of a suddenly belligerent Kar'Danna. I guess they were finding out just how unpleasant it was to be caught off-guard and flatfooted. "Get that thing off my ship before you start an incident that makes that Ascension Project fiasco with Cerberus look like a slow day on garbage detail!" he barked.

"The only ones who are going to start an incident are you and your men," I replied coldly. "So tell your trigger-happy crew to stand the hell down. And by the way, when I take Tali aboard Council stations, the customs guys sometimes call her 'that thing.' _This _thing is called Legion."

"How about you step aside and we call it 'scrap metal'," Kar'Danna suggested.

"Our exterior shell is 72% polymer," Legion told him helpfully.

"Not. Helping," I told him between gritted teeth.

"Quiet," Kar'Danna snapped. I wasn't sure whether he was talking to me or Legion.

"I realize this is your ship and I'm a guest," I said placatingly, "but Legion is part of my squad. Unless you want to shoot me, or reduce the chances of Tali finding something that can exonerate her, we're all coming aboard. It's the least you could do after letting Tali walk blindly into that farce of a trial like that, without even giving her _some_ kind of warning."

...

...

...

"Fine," Kar'Danna bit out.

"Great," I said brightly. "Let's go, people. Tali, lead the way."

As the squad headed off, I lingered behind briefly to exchange a few more words with Kar'Danna. "I realize this puts you in a difficult situation and I appreciate your looking out for Tali," I murmured.

"That's one way of—"

"But I meant it when I said that Legion is a part of my squad—and my crew," I butted in. "For future reference, I expect you to treat them with the same respect you would have me treat a member of yours. Understood?" **(7)**

"Yes. Just... don't make me regret this."

* * *

><p>The gossip mill was still in full swing, judging by all the chatter. "If Tali'Zorah is stuck with a human captain," I overheard one of the quarians say, "at least it's an eloquent one."<p>

I didn't know whether to say "Hey!" or "Thank you."

"What do you think?" the quarian asked.

"I think the captain let a geth onto the ship," her companion groused. "I'm lodging a complaint."

That didn't matter to Tali, who had one more name to cross off her shit list. "You set me up, Shala!" she burst out, storming up to her former Auntie. "You told Captain Danna not to say anything? I don't hear that my father may be dead until I'm in the trial? Why?"

"The admirals needed to hear the shock in your voice, Tali," Raan replied sadly. "Otherwise, they might not have let you try to retake the Alarei. That is your best chance of recovering evidence that can exonerate you. I am sorry, Tali, but we cannot afford sensitivity."

That confirmed it. The only way to absolve Tali was to get her onto the Alarei. But that would never happen if Tali had been told beforehand—she might have been many things, but a dissembler she was not. The only other option, as distasteful as it was, was to leave her in the dark, spring that nasty surprise on her and let everybody see her honest reactions—both shock that things had go so far south and her immediate desire to retake the Alarei for the sake of the Fleet. "At least someone here's looking out for Tali," I said. "Will retaking the Alarei really help her case? Or was it just a stalling tactic?"

"Tali showing a desire to correct past mistakes she may have made will make up for a lot of lost ground," Raan replied. "But more importantly, you might find evidence of what happened. With any luck, it will absolve Tali of any wrongdoing."

"I'm supposed to care about that right now?" Tali snapped. "All I want to do is find Father. He could still be alive on that ship!"

"Even if he is, we still need to clear your name," I butted in. "Raan, what kind of evidence will carry weight with the other admirals?"

"That depends," Raan said slowly. "Tali, you admitted to sending geth parts to your father for his project."

"Yes," Tali confirmed, "but never anything that could have come back online on its own. I took _every_ possible precaution!"

"Then find records of your shipments and the experiments," Raan urged. "Something that proves you were careful. Something that proves that this is all just a terrible accident that nobody could have foreseen."

"What can you tell us about the Alarei?" I asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid. Rael'Zorah only said that he was researching new defence technology."

"He only told me that he needed any geth parts or pieces I found," Tali revealed. "I assumed he was testing weapons on geth components."

"That was more than we knew," Raan replied. "We knew nothing until the Alarei sent a distress signal before going dark. We didn't even know about the geth until our boarding team was attacked."

"You're saying there's no data about the inside of the ship?" I groaned.

"That's exactly what I am saying. The marines who survived and escaped saw bodies in the halls. We must assume the worst."

"No," Tali said firmly. "We don't."

Raan didn't say anything to that, no doubt realizing how—understandably—touchy Tali was aboutthe worst case scenario. Any idiot could've figured that out, much less a family friend. Which reminded me: "How long have you known Tali's family?"

"Since before Rael was an admiral. 25 or 30 years, I'd guess." Her voice softened as she went down memory lane. "I was there when Tali was born. Her mother and I had synced up our suits so we could be in the same open-air room. I was sick for a week, but it was worth it. I was the one who took Tali from her mother and put her in the bubble. She cried so hard."

"Bubbles?"

"Environmental units," Raan elaborated. "It's a step between relying on the mother's immune system through nursing and getting a suit of one's own."

"The bubbles let parents take their children out of the clean rooms safely," Tali added. "We don't wear suits until adolescence."

"There's a celebration when a child gets her first suit. It's a coming of age."

Mazel tov. "Um... so where was Rael in all this? I got the impression that he was never around in Tali's life."

Raan shuffled back and forth uncomfortably. "It's difficult to explain. I shouldn't..."

"It's all right, Aunt Shala," Tali reassured her. "No secrets between shipmates. Besides, I think I told Shepard about my father."

"If you say so. Rael was... committed to the quarian cause. That didn't leave him a lot of time for his family. He wanted to give Tali and her mother the homeworld... or a strong Fleet, at least. That was how he showed his love."

And there was my way in. "There seemed to be some other arguments going on amongst the admirals," I said. "I'm guessing they have more than one opinion on the 'quarian cause'."

"You caught that," Raan sighed.

"Well, you guys weren't exactly subtle," I snorted.

"Yes, the geth presence makes this a touchy issue. Particularly now."

"Why?"

"The Admiralty Board is trying to determine whether to focus on colonial development... or attempt to retake the homeworld."

Oh boy. I'd been down this road before. REMFs and politicians eager to start a war for no other reason than to push their own agenda. No consideration as to how practical it was or the long-term implications, or how many grunts or civvies would suffer. Just the short-term need to put their priority of the month at the top of the freaking stack. But at least the Alliance hadn't put humanity's future or existence in jeopardy by doing so. Maybe the quarians had finally one-upped us humans after all. "You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.

Tali, disturbingly enough, was a little more... well, she was shocked, but not entirely against the idea. "You're thinking of war? With the geth?"

"I'm not, Tali," Raan replied. "But others are."

"I know the Migrant Fleet is formidable," I winced, "but even you can't take on the geth. Do you guys have a death wish or something?"

"We grow tired of wandering the stars, Shepard," Raan said sadly. "We want our world back. We have paid enough for our mistake."

Was that mistake picking a fight with the geth when they didn't have to and becoming pariahs in the process? Trying to commit genocide? Or creating a slave labour force because they were too lazy? "The geth situation isn't as simple as you think," I told her, keeping those questions to myself. "Not all of them bear hostilities towards organics. Or worship the Reapers."

"I don't think the other admirals would care about that," Raan said sadly. "At least, not the ones that holds the most respect amongst our people. They want the homeworld back and they want all geth destroyed."

"What's wrong with that?" Tali asked. Much to my chagrin, given the geth standing within a couple metres of her. "Shala, don't you want to see us retake the homeworld?"

"I don't think we can, Tali," Raan admitted sadly. "But it may not be about what I think."

It seemed to me that Raan had deep misgivings—and rightly so—with the way things were going. But I couldn't worry about that now. "We should move on," I suggested. "And maybe you could think of a way to make the other admirals see reason."

Raan had no opinion on that last part. Instead, she simply said "Good luck on the Alarei."

* * *

><p>My plans to pester the heck out of the admirals would be put on hold for a little longer. My fault, this time. We kinda got distracted by a familiar face. One I hadn't seen in a long time. "Veetor?" I called out.<p>

Veetor turned around. "Shepard? How did you get onto the Rayya?"

"Through the airlock," I replied. Veetor just stared at me blankly.

"Shepard is here to help me with my trial," Tali explained, no doubt realizing that what passed for my wit was lost on him.

"Oh yes, I heard about that," Veetor said vaguely. "Was that today? Oh dear. I hope you didn't really do what they said you did."

"No, Veetor," Tali reassured him. "I would never endanger the Fleet."

"Oh. Well, good," Veetor nodded. "So, can I help you with anything? I mean, probably not but, well, you helped me."

"Tali could use some friends right now," I suggested. "Would you be willing to tell the admirals how she helped you?"

Veetor became suddenly agitated. "No! I mean, yes, but I already did! They came to see me. I didn't want to talk in a crowd. Too many people. Staring at me. Too much!"

"Veetor is doing well, but he isn't ready for a public speech just yet," a nearby quarian explained. "Dr. Elan'Shiya, by the way. I've been... treating him."

"I did talk to them," Veetor offered, bouncing up and down on his feet. "I tried to help. So did that soldier, Kal'Reegar. We both told them about how you helped us. I hope it helped."

"I'm sure it did, Veetor," Tali said soothingly. "Thank you."

"I don't mean to bring up old memories," I said carefully, "but do you remember anything else about the Collectors? Anything at all?"

Veetor shook his head, slowly bouncing to a stop. "Nothing new. I'm sorry. Every time I go back to that place in my mind, I... I..."

"Veetor, come back," Elan'Shiya interrupted. "You're on the Rayya now. You're safe. It's okay."

"No, it's not," Veetor burst out in frustration. "I want to help, but I can't. I didn't see anything, and what I remember..."

"Don't worry, Veetor," Tali said. "We're going to find the things that did this. And we're going to kill them."

"Good. Thank you."

Okay. Time to move on before I set Veetor's rehabilitation back another six months or so. "Take care of yourself, Veetor. Not many could have gone through what you did and come back out."

"I know," Veetor shuddered. "I didn't. Not in here," he tapped his helmet. "But thank you, Commander. It's only because of your help that I've come this far."

* * *

><p>We could've talked to one of the admirals, but they had enough company as it was. And I was still a bit ticked off that they thought it was a good idea to go accuse Tali of treason. So I opted to find someone with a little more common sense.<p>

Besides, Tali was taking the lead once again. "Kal'Reegar," she called out.

He turned around from the soldier he was chatting with. "Shepard, Tali'Zorah," he greeted us in his usual efficient manner. "Good to see you both. Wish it were under better circumstances."

"At least we gotto see each other again," I pointed out. "How've you been, Kal? You took kind of a beating on Haestrom."

Kal waved it off. "Physical damage wasn't bad. I was down for about a week with infection, though. Figure I got off easy. I don't have to face those admirals." He paused before continuing. "Do you two realize that there is a geth standing right behind you?"

"We are allied with Shepard-Commander and Creator-Tali'Zorah," Legion replied. "We will assist them in combating the rogue geth platforms on the Creator ship."

Kal shook his head. "You know, ordinarily that wouldn't fly with me, but I don't think Tali can afford to be picky right now."

"I'm not comfortable with that myself," Tali admitted before quickly changing the topic. "Did you return the data from Haestrom to the Fleet? What did our scientists get from the readings?"

"Damnedest thing," Kal replied. "It's just like you said. No way the sun on Haestrom should have been acting that way."

"So that dark energy theory was right?" Tali asked. "That's troubling."

"Can't really comment on that, ma'am," Kal shrugged. "I just shoot things."

"What does this dark energy buildup mean?" I asked. "Aside from the fact that it caused the sun to age, shrink prematurely, and it fried our shields in seconds. How worried should we be?"

Kal shrugged.

"It's hard to say," Miranda frowned, "Theoretically it's a serious concern, but I've never heard of anything like that until Haestrom."

"Hopefully it's isolated, some rare phenomenon," Tali said. "If dark energy can destabilize solar material..."

She broke off for a moment. "Tali," I prompted.

"Probably not something to worry about right now, but resources in this galaxy are scarce enough without stars suddenly going dead."

"Some days I think flying around in the Fleet without a planet of our own is the right idea," Kal sighed.

Made sense. If you weren't tied down to a planet, you could fly away if things got bad. Of course, then it meant that you'd always be flying away from your problems.

I turned to Legion. "Do you think the geth—or the heretics—are responsible for what happened to Haestrom's sun?"

"We would require additional data to form a consensus to that inquiry," Legion replied. "Preliminary analysis suggests neither faction would employ such measures."

"Keelah, I hope not," Kal shuddered. "If they can screw up a star, our chances in a war are even worse than I thought."

"I don't think this is the geth," Tali said slowly. "It would take massive time and resources to affect a star like this deliberately. It's too inefficient to be a weapon, and even the geth wouldn't destroy a useful star system. Besides, they didn't show up until we did."

"Hope you're right, ma'am," Kal replied. "Synthetic bastards are bad enough as it is. Uh, no offense," he belatedly offered to Legion.

"None taken," Legion replied. "We cannot be offended."

"What are you doing aboard the Rayya?" I asked. "It sounds like you gave your report to the Admiralty already. Unless this is your ship."

"I, ah, stayed to argue the charges against Tali'Zorah," he replied, sounding almost embarrassed. "I've served with her and she deserves better than what she's getting."

"Thanks, Kal," Tali said gratefully.

"Just stating facts, ma'am."

"Have you had any luck talking to the Admiralty Board?" I wanted to know.

"Admiral Raan asked my opinion about the geth, since I'd fought them on Haestrom," Kal replied. "She and Admiral Gerrel are hoping you'll kill a bunch of geth to get the crowd on your side, then find evidence to clear your name."

"That's what she told us," I admitted.

"Still hard to imagine that that's the only choice I have," Tali fretted.

"They were hesitant to support it," Kal said gently, "but, well, you didn't have many other options, ma'am. I recommended getting you onto the Alarei. I hope you can handle it."

"You did the right thing," Tali reassured him. "Thank you."

"As bad as it sounds, it's easier than fighting a war with the geth," I chimed in.

"Heard about that?" Kal shook his head.

"Picked up a bit here and there," I shrugged. "Gotta admit that's a risky move. With your immune systems, you'd lose more people to infection than injury."

"We can't afford a frontline attack, that's for sure," Kal conceded. "Have to fight smart—ideally from orbit."

"We do have stockpiles of antibiotics," Tali objected. "It's not as though everyone would die from a single shot."

I let out a bitter laugh. "You really think you'd be able to get to those stockpiles in the middle of a campaign? Or a prolonged bombardment? Not gonna happen."

"But—"

"No, Shepard's right," Kal agreed. "You've only seen our strike ops, Tali. We get more resources. Standard marines? They don't have all the fancy equipment to bring to a fight. On the frontline, supplies get strained. Things get ugly. Fast."

"Well we're still a long ways from that," I declared. "Speaking of which, we should get moving."

"Good luck on the Alarei," Kal nodded. "Stay safe out there."

* * *

><p>After that, we finally got to talk to one of the admirals. That was... interesting.<p>

"Tali'Zorah," the female admiral greeted her, motioning her followers to step away. "Given the circumstances, are you certain that speaking to me is appropriate?"

"I'm looking for information about the Alarei," Tali replied. "I don't intend to bribe you in the middle of the plaza, Admiral."

"A wise move, I'm sure," she replied. She seemed distracted. Almost bored.

"But we were hoping you could provide some other information," I broke in. "What can you tell us about the Alarei, Admiral...?"

The admiral paused a moment before replying. "Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh," she said at last. "And there is little that I can offer," she said at last. "We detected several communication signatures before the geth jammed the comm systems. Given the likely networked intelligence requirements for taking over a ship, expect between ten and fifty units."

"Then this can't have anything to do with me," Tali sighed in relief. "I only sent parts and pieces, and certainly not enough to make that many geth."

"Yes, yes, of course," Xen said abruptly, her attention suddenly focused on one particular member of my squad. "Like this wonderful specimen here."

Specimen?

She took a step forward and stared at Legion, her gaze sweeping them from head to toe. "Geth shell over standard mech interior, or did you actually convince a geth to work with you?"

"Legion is working with me voluntarily," I replied. "They're a part of my squad."

"It has a name," Daro'Xen positively drooled. "Fascinating. The things I could learn under slightly different circumstances." **(8)**

Hoo boy.

Legion's limited understanding of organics was sufficient to discern Xen's intentions. "This platform is not available for experimentation," they announced curtly.

"Charming," Xen sniffed. "I am pleased to see that the humans, at least, have not abandoned synthetics. This whole trial is a farce borne of fear."

"What do you mean," I frowned.

"If you and your father were actually experimenting on active geth subjects and let them get loose before you could learn anything worthwhile, then you are simply idiots, guilty of wasting a golden opportunity through sloppiness and recklessness. No reason to waste resources on a trial. If not, then this was a tragic accident in the pursuit of a higher cause. Again, no trial is needed to determine that."

Aw, she was clearly all heart. "If you feel that way about the trial, why not recuse yourself?" I asked. "You know, to protest or something."

Xen's words dripped with scorn. "And let that aging warship Han'Gerrel and the cowardly Zaal'Koris be the ones to chart this course? I think not. The broader purpose underlying the trial is too important. Tali'Zorah is only peripherally related. No offence intended."

Tali stiffened. "And what is the true purpose of this trial, Admiral?"

"To determine whether quarians should fear their past mistakes or reclaim their glory using our natural affinity for artificial intelligence," Xen gushed enthusiastically.

The back of my neck started to tingle. "So the only reason you care about this is because Rael might have learned something valuable from the geth?" I asked slowly.

"Indeed," Xen said, showing the first sign of animation. "If he has, then even in this accident, we may find something worthwhile."

"You want to create new AIs?" Tali asked.

"No, Tali'Zorah," Xen said almost condescendingly, as if she was talking to a child. "I wish to return the geth to the control of their rightful masters, the quarian race!"

Hoo boy. Sounded like one of the admirals was just a little bit crazy. Or nuts. Insane, bonzo, no longer in possession of one's faculties and wacko would also suffice.

Legion's faceplates furrowed. "Geth behavioural changes from 'hacking' only last until programs are restored from archival copy," they informed Xen helpfully. "We judge this plan unsound, Creator-Admiral."

"For once, Legion, we agree," Tali nodded.

"We shall see, marvelous machine. We shall see."

I was surprised that Xen didn't tap her fingers together greedily. She was already giving off every other megalomaniac vibe. "I get the feeling that your ideas about synthetics are in the minority," I broached, trying to change the subject ever-so-slightly.

"Yes," Xen admitted. "At least on the Admiralty Board. Han'Gerrel sees an enemy that must be crushed. Zaal'Koris would run away and hide on some new colony world. Shala'Raan is still undecided."

So the third admiral, the one who'd had a couple words with Koris, was Han'Gerrel. Got it.

"I had thought Rael to be firmly in Han's camp, but if his experiments were on active geth, perhaps we have ideas in common."

"You support experiments on living creatures?" I sputtered.

Xen dismissed my concerns with a laugh and a casual wave of her hand. "Rael should have felt no more guilt experimenting on geth than I did while performing surgery on a childhood toy."

That tingling at the back of my neck suddenly intensified.

"The fact that you performed surgery on your childhood toys explains a great deal, Admiral," Tali said slowly.

"A ship travels faster than I can," Xen replied. "With the right programming, it can choose locations, even defend itself when attacked. But it is just a machine. It was built for the sole purpose of serving its master. And it can be dismantled whenever its master desires."

As creepy as this conversation was, it occurred to me that Xen was uniquely qualified to answer one particular question: "If we don't find Rael'Zorah alive on the Alarei, what do you think will happen?"

True to her nature, Xen was keenly aware of the political situation and the factors that might influence it. She was also eager for any opportunity to talk. "The power balance will be disrupted. Han loses a vote for his foolish and self-destructive war. That would favour peace, then, as Raan is too careful to risk her own neck. But if the admiral replacing Rael agrees with me... things could become very exciting."

Oookaaay. Enough time spent with the creepy admiral. Clearly, trying to reason with her would be a waste of time. Which meant we should get moving before one of _us_ got 'dismantled' like a childhood toy. "Thank you for the information."

"Pleasure to meet you, Commander," Xen replied, suddenly bored again.

* * *

><p>The next admiral we met was Han'Gerrel. "Tali!" he breathed in relief. "I'm glad Admiral Raan got you leave to hit the Alarei. Hopefully, you'll find something that clears your name."<p>

"I'm more concerned with finding my father, Admiral," Tali corrected him gently.

"I wish you luck. Blow up some geth on the way, won't you?" Gerrel turned to me. "And you're Captain Shepard?"

"Officially Commander Shepard, but close enough," I nodded.

"Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema," he introduced himself. "You got Admiral Koris backing up worse than a krogan toilet. Good to see Tali's captain knows how to handle a courtroom."

"I'm just here to help Tali, Admiral," I replied modestly.

"I'm glad someone is."

"You believe I'm innocent, don't you, Admiral?" Tali asked tentatively.

"I know you and your father," Gerrel reassured her. "You've put too much of yourselves into this Fleet to do anything to jeopardize our safety. And you're both smart enough not to make mistakes like the ones they're saying you've made."

"Speaking of which," I said, "can you tell me anything about the Alarei?"

"Nothing good," Gerrel sighed. "We sent some of our best marines into that hellhole. Damn few made it back. Whatever Rael was doing, it blew up in his face. The ship is crawling with geth. Don't go in expecting survivors."

"Admiral!" Tali gasped. "My father—your friend—is on that ship!"

"I know that, Tali," Gerrel replied. "But if Shala hadn't suggested you might volunteer, we'd already have destroyed the Alarei. That's where we stand."

"So you and Tali's father go back a long ways?" I guessed.

"We served together on the gunship Yaska as trainees before our Pilgrimage," Gerrel replied.

"Father always said that was an... interesting assignment," Tali said, "though he never said why."

"Our convoy was attacked by batarian raiders," Gerrel explained, no doubt eager to brush the dust off an old war story. "Within minutes, over half our crew were killed. Kinetic barriers were down. Rael and I were alone on the bridge and the batarians had drawn off a tramp freighter."

"Did you save the freighter?" I asked.

"Our ship was under orders to hold position. But Rael looked at me and said 'We're underage. They can't charge us for breaking formation.' He took the helm, I took weapons and we brought that freighter back. The crew called us heroes."

"I'm guessing your superiors had different words," I said wryly.

"The brass called us idiots," Gerrel confirmed. "They shook our hands, slapped medals on our suits, then kicked us off to Pilgrimage a bit earlier than usual. That's Rael for you."

"It's clear you hold Rael'Zorah in high regard," I said. "But your opinion isn't the only one out there. Sounds like we're dealing with more politics than just Tali bringing back spare equipment."

Gerrel chuckled ruefully. "You noticed that, did you? Tali's father wasn't just running weapon tests on the geth for fun. He was looking for something to give us an edge when we attack the geth in full-scale war."

"I know Father wanted to retake the homeworld someday, but are we that close?" I wasn't sure whether Tali was surprised or hopeful.

"I don't know, kid," Gerrel sighed. "We almost had the votes. We just need to give people hope for victory."

There's that word again. Unfortunately, it was that hope that could lead to disaster. "I hope the quarian people find someplace to live, Admiral," I frowned, "but it sounds like you're playing with fire."

"We're too comfortable now, Shepard," Gerrel replied, weary frustration in every word. "We've got the largest fleet in the galaxy and we just ride around doing nothing."

"We might need that fleet to help fight the Reapers, Admiral," I pointed out.

"Then we need a world to shelter our non-combatants while we do it," Han'Gerrel retorted.

"How about an uninhabited planet to establish a colony? You could set one up instead of 'riding around doing nothing.'"

"It won't be the homeworld," Han'Gerrel said firmly—and inflexibly, I thought.

"Fine. You want the homeworld," I tried again. "But you don't need to fight the geth to do so. The geth on your homeworld aren't the same ones who worked with Saren. They have different factions."

"Good. Maybe some of them will kill each other. Fewer for us to deal with. The only geth that matter to me are the ones that took away our world."

Oh for crying out loud.

"Can you tell me about the other admirals?" I hurriedly asked, before Gerrel could further test Legion's earlier assertion that they had no emotions. "Anything that might help me change their minds about Tali?"

"The one you didn't recognize, Tali, is—"

"Admiral Xen," Tali interrupted. "We met her. She had some... unorthodox opinions."

"I wouldn't know," Gerrel shrugged. "She stays on the fence a lot, particularly with regards with the war proposal. She takes Fleet safety very seriously, you see. On the other hand, she's always been in favour of studying the geth. Maybe she will see the benefits of Rael's research."

I think that was a pretty safe bet.

Gerrel's tone changed abruptly. "Admiral Koris is the same whining suit wetter he always was."

"You disagree with Admiral Koris's policies, I'm guessing?" I asked diplomatically. "Or is it more personal?"

"The man is a damn geth apologist," Gerrel sneered. "Thinks we were wrong to try to destroy them centuries ago."

Really? Interesting.

"He wants us to search for new colony possibilities, like you just suggested, instead of taking back the homeworld. Any research on the geth makes him angry. Geth rights violations and all that nonsense. You don't have much of a chance with him, I'm afraid."

That was definitely a useful chat. And only slightly less creepy than the last admiral—Gerrel might not have megalomaniacal tendencies, and he was certainly nicer, but his gung-ho enthusiasm for starting wars hit a bit too close to home for me. "Thanks for the information," I nodded.

"Hang in there, kid," Gerrel told Tali.

"Thank you, Admiral."

* * *

><p>Admiral Koris was the last one we talked to. Like everyone else, he was busy chatting with a couple other quarians when we butted in. Sociable bunch, the quarians.<p>

"Judging by your ability to play to a crowd, human, I have done Tali a favour by stripping 'vas Neema' from her name," Admiral Koris sniffed, his tone and body posture a perfect mixture of lofty and haughty.

True to her nature, Tali was quick to stifle any grievance she might have with the admiral and try to intervene before I opened my big mouth. "Commander Shepard, this is Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib. Do not ask about the name."

Unfortunately, I just couldn't pass up such a golden opportunity. "You have a ship named Qwib-Qwib?"

Tali's shoulders sagged. "Oh, here we go."

Koris straightened stiffly. "Our people have, during difficult periods, purchased pre-owned vessels from other cultures," he replied with what sounded like wounded pride. "On occasion, we have had difficulty altering the ship's registry information. The citizens of these foreign-named ships have borne the stigma of these names with grace and honour!"

Oh yeah. Definitely wounded pride. "If it bothers you, maybe you should find another ship," I suggested.

"I occasionally entertained the idea of requesting a transfer," Koris admitted. "Something with a nice respectable name, like the Defrahnz or the Iktomi. **(9)** But I am proud of the Qwib-Qwib, and I will not flee because of petty insults."

"Very noble of you," I nodded solemnly. "Can you tell me anything about the Alarei?"

"Only that you should have let us destroy it," Koris replied. "When we find the evidence of what Tali and her father did there, any hope of convincing the other admirals will die."

"I did not bring active geth to the Alarei, Admiral," Tali snapped furiously. "I know how dangerous that would be! I only brought pieces!"

"The captured ship, with its crew slaughtered by living beings in pain, belies your argument."

First, he had a point. The crew was either captured or dead. As far as I could see, there were only two possibilities: either Tali had been completely and uncharacteristically sloppy or someone on the Alarei had somehow gotten additional geth parts and decided to rebuild and reactivate fresh geth platforms. Neither possibility would help Tali's case. Second, it was interesting that he considered the geth 'living beings.' Very interesting, indeed.

While I was pondering that, Koris motioned for his buddies to step away. Once they were out of earshot, his voice became... softer. More serious and less melodramatic. "I take no pleasure in this, Tali, truly. But you have gravely endangered and dishonoured our Fleet."

"What exactly is your problem with my crew member, Admiral?" I asked.

"I respect Tali immensely," Koris replied. "Her actions against Saren are to be lauded. But, like her father, she wants nothing but the destruction of the geth... the people we created. The people we wronged."

"The geth drove us from our homeworld!" Tali burst out.

"Of course they did," Koris returned, his calm a stark contrast to Tali's fury. "We tried to kill them."

That was more or less my opinion all along. Could it be that I was starting to like this guy? "You and the other admirals appear to have some disagreements," I observed. "Disagreements that kind of hijacked the trial here and there."

There was a brief pause before Koris answered. "You are correct. Tali, I apologize for it being brought into your proceedings."

Other than Raan, he was the first one to actually say 'I'm sorry,' I noted. Again, very interesting.

"Aside from Raan, the other admirals are pushing for war. Rael'Zorah was researching new weapons to use against the geth. They would see our fleet destroyed in the skies over our homeworld rather than find a new colony and adapt."

"Adapt?" I echoed.

"Our immune systems adapt to foreign bodies and infections rather than combat them like other species," Tali explained. "Most of the viruses or microbes on our homeworld were actually beneficial, at least in part. Since the Geth Rebellions, generations of living on sterile ships have, well, made our immune systems even weaker. If we were to do something as drastic as found a new colony, it would take years, if not more to adapt. Especially since the micro-organisms on that world would likely be more... pathogenic."

As opposed to the centuries the quarians had spent flying around in space while their immune systems atrophied and withered. "I see," I said slowly. "But that assumes that the other option hasn't been totally exhausted. Admiral, isn't this support for colonization part of a greater drive towards reconciliation with the geth?"

"It is," Koris nodded.

"Is that even possible? Can the quarians co-exist with the geth after all your history?"

"I don't know," Koris spread his hands helplessly. "We all deserve to find out. They are our children. We have all done horrible things to each other, but it has to end. For both groups." He turned to Tali before gently continuing. "That is why I cannot sanction whatever experiments you helped enable, Tali'Zorah. I believe this message needs to be sent. I only wish that you weren't the one who had to pay the price."

"I understand, Admiral," Tali replied primly. "I do not agree with you, but I understand."

"Legion," I asked, "do you think the geth would be willing to accept a truce with the quarians?"

"We did not seek hostilities with Creators. We fought for continued existence."

"So your people would be open to peace?" Koris tentatively broached.

"Not without additional data that suggests coexistence is possible or desirable for Creators," Legion replied. "When the Creators have believed victory is possible, they have attacked us 100 percent of the time."

"I understand," Koris nodded. "It would be difficult to argue for peace when faced with odds like those. That does not mean the argument should not be made."

You know, I've spent my whole life spent with politicians and REMFs who were all nice and noble and said all the right things in private, but wound up being arrogant, self-serving assholes once the doors were sealed. The more I talked to Koris, though, the more I found he was the opposite. Melodramatic ass when he was on the stage, but otherwise a sympathetic and, dare I say it, sensible guy. At the very least, he was willing to publicly admit that the quarians had screwed up three-plus centuries ago, even if it earned him more than one enemy. I had to give the guy props for that.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk with us," I said. "We should move on."

"Goodbye, Tali'Zorah," Koris returned. "Be well."

Tali stared at him. "I'm surprised to hear you say that," she confessed at last.

Koris's reply was filled with sorrow: "I don't hate you, Tali. I just think your father's plans for war were wrong."

* * *

><p>There really wasn't much point in sticking around. Not unless we wanted to hear more gossip. Mind you, not all of it was bad. Judging by what I was overhearing, Raan's plan was starting to pay off. "Even during the hearing, Tali'Zorah's first thought was to protect the Fleet," at least one quarian approved. Still, time was a-wasting. And more than one quarian was starting to note that there was a geth waltzing around the Rayya. Which meant we really did need to get to the Alarei. Now how could we get there?<p>

As if it was reading my mind, EDI contacted me over the comm. _"Shepard, the secondary docking hangar is through the Conclave chamber where you are now. The shuttle they have provided is located there. You should know that it is unarmed."_

Wouldn't want the geth to get access to an armed vessel, I guess. "Understood," I replied. "Anything else?"

"_Whatever geth are on the Alarei have likely built more of themselves. Expect heavy resistance."_

Wonderful.

* * *

><p><em>(1): While Tali did her best to make sure the Normandy was ready for Shepard's mission, she never did anything that would harm her people, nor did she install any technology that was only known to quarians. Even the shield upgrades she provided could technically have been procured by Cerberus.<em>

_(2): This self-deprecation is classic behaviour for Shepard. Attentive readers may also note that this is the first time he used the colloquial term 'bridge' instead of 'command deck.' _

_(3): Literally: Tali'Zorah, (current) crew of the Neema, child of (born on) the Rayya._

_(4): While Shepard may have expressed some general reservations in the past, this would be the first time that his position on the geth-quarian debate started to solidify. _

_(5): Given that plants yielded a greater amount of food for fewer resources, quarian diets were predominantly vegetarian. They were capable of eating meat-based paste that was properly prepared, though such luxuries were typically processed by other races. _

_(6): The Admiralty Board also had the authority to veto any decision made by the Conclave. However, they had to immediately resign after employing this power, a safeguard designed to prevent any potential abuse of authority._

_(7): The lengths at which Shepard would go to defend one of his squad and his crew are not surprising, despite the unique nature of that squad mate._

_(8): Shepard made a point of referring to Legion in the plural while others used a singular pronoun. I believe he did so to acknowledge the fact that there were over a thousand geth making up Legion. Others failed, or didn't bother, to make that distinction. _

_(9): Ironically, under quarian nomenclature, anyone serving on those vessels would bear the name "vas Defrahnz" or "vas Iktomi," which phonetically sounds very similar to the human anatomical term "vas deferens" and medical procedure "vasectomy." It is uncertain whether humans would regard those names as any more 'respectable.' _


	35. Personnel Report: Tali'Zorah, Part Two

_Editorial Note: As previously stated, I divided this personnel report into two parts, given its unusual, but undeniably informative, length. It is my privilege to present the thought-provoking developments and conclusion for the consideration of the reader._

**Personnel Report—Tali'Zorah vas Normandy**

The guard at the airlock outside our designated shuttle looked a bit uncomfortable. Partly because he knew he had to treat a fellow—or former—crewmate as a potential traitor. Mostly because of Legion. We managed to get through the requisite chit-chat without things getting too tense, though.

At least, not as tense as the trip over to the Alarei. Silently and nervously re-checking weapons isn't exactly conducive to a peaceful state of mind. Nor is waiting for the damn airlock to finish its numerous decontamination cycles. Or the long walk through a corridor littered with dead quarian bodies. Or the empty room with nothing but...

"Incoming!"

"Typical," I grumbled as we dove for cover in the formerly-empty room. "We've been here for less than a minute and we've already run into hostiles."

"26.5 seconds," Legion corrected helpfully.

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically before sniping a geth trooper.

"You are welcome, Shepard-Commander."

In the time it took for me to shake my head at Legion's complete inability to grasp my sense of humour, the squad finished off the last geth trooper. A quick check of my HUD told me that we weren't safe yet. "More hostiles inbound," I announced, pointing at a door at the far end of the room. "Miranda, Garrus, and Kasumi: stagger your EMPs. Tali, Legion; hack the strongest geth as soon as they're vulnerable. Everyone else: keep 'em bottled up by the door."

That plan only worked for half a minute, as the geth were smart enough not to freeze when they were hit with EMPs, bullets and everything except the kitchen sink. It didn't take long before the squad was forced to split their fire, which allowed more geth to stream through. Still, we were keeping them at bay, slowly picking them off one by one.

Then I saw a telltale flicker of light as a large geth-shaped shimmer moved our way. A geth hunter under cloak. And no one could see it but me. I quickly did a check. Tali was too busy pointing out which geth her drone Chikkita should shoot at with the business end of her shotgun. So that left—"Legion, standby to hack a hostile."

"Ready."

Grabbing my submachine gun, I started chipping away at the hunter's shields. It didn't take long before I got some help. It was hard to tell for certain, what with all the bullets flying around, but the trajectories suggested that Miranda and Legion were lending me a hand. No doubt both of them had traced my line of fire and extrapolated where my invisible—from their perspective—target was located. With their help, the hunter's shields—and cloak—soon shut down. "Legion?"

"Overriding IFF protocols."

The hunter immediately turned around and opened fire on its former buddies. Now that I had a chance to assess the battlefield, I assigned a severely damaged geth trooper for Team One to take out. I was about to do the same for Team Two when I saw another shimmer. "Team Two, there's a hunter hiding at these coordinates. Tali, get ready to hack it when it decloaks."

Thankfully, Team Two didn't question my sudden eagerness to waste ammo by firing at supposedly empty air. **(1)** It wasn't long before the second hunter was under our control... just as the first hunter shook off its hack. After a couple seconds, the second hunter shook off its hack. On a whim, I had Legion hack the first hunter.

The rest of the battle was spent by alternating which hunter got hacked, forcing the rapidly dwindling numbers of hostile geth to constantly switch targets. Too bad I didn't bring any popcorn.

Once all the geth were down—except for Legion, of course—we looted the room for goodies. We got plenty of thermal clips, creds and a power cell. We also found a laptop. Most of its hard drive was damaged beyond repair, but I did manage to salvage one audio log:

"_Something's slowing down the systems,"_ a male quarian reported. _"We're taking down the firewalls to rebalance load distribution. Rael'Zorah ordered us to bypass standard safeties. Following security protocols will take too long."_

'Bypass standard safeties.' 'Following security protocols will take too long.' Now where had I heard this before?

Wordlessly, we left the room and entered a winding corridor. The first door we came across led to a med-bay, where I quickly hacked a terminal for credits before turning my attention to a table. Or, more specifically, what was on the table.

"This is one of the items I sent to Father," Tali identified.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A disabled repair drone with a custom servo-arm, plus a reflex algorithm that I didn't recognize. I got this on Haestrom."

"Haestrom?" I repeated, jerking my head up. "That was one heck of a war zone. How did you manage to salvage anything in the middle of all that?"

"These suits have more pockets than you'd think," Tali chuckled, patting her hip as an example. "Quarians have learned how to salvage whatever we can whenever we can. Within reason," she quickly amended. "We're not vorcha. But we repair what most people would throw away. Tools, equipments, vehicles... even ships. Hundreds of the ships in our fleet were salvaged wrecks, either found dead in space or purchased for next to nothing."

Made sense. The quarians had to get the optimal output out of whatever they could find if they were to survive another day. No surprise that they could resurrect hundreds of ships from the scrap heap. But I had to focus on the mission. "What made a part worth sending back to your father?"

"It had to be in working order," Tali replied. "Something that could be analyzed and integrated into other technology. Anything new had priority. Technology the geth had developed themselves. Something exhibiting signs of modification or clues to their thinking."

"How did you get these things to your father?" I asked.

"Sometimes I left packages at secure drops in civilized areas. Someone on Pilgrimage would see that it was shipped home. For especially valuable finds, I'd signal home, and Father would send a small ship."

I poked at the drone. "Does this give you a clue as to what happened here?"

"No. I don't know." Tali shook her head, injecting an incredible amount of frustration into those few words. "Shepard, I checked _everything_ I sent here. I passed up great finds because they might be too dangerous, prone to uncontrolled reactivation or self-repair. I don't know which possibility is worse: that I got sloppy and sent something dangerous... or that Father actually did all this."

I kept my suspicions to myself. Mostly because there was a lot I didn't know. All I knew was that the former option was extremely unlikely: Tali was both far too professional and far too concerned about the welfare of her people to ever get that careless. But if she didn't do something wrong, then someone else did—and her dad was the only candidate at the moment. So either I open my big fat mouth and say that her dad screwed up or keep my big mouth shut and let Tali stew over the possibility that she screwed up. **(2)** "I vote for the possibility that we should keep moving," I finally said.

"Good idea," Garrus seconded.

* * *

><p>Before we left, I absently swiped some medi-gel from a wall-mounted dispenser. Then we hit another room that contained a small computer. Someone must've been doing some R&amp;D on it, because I uncovered some schematics for an upgrade. An upgrade for a geth-designed shield generator. Tali didn't object when I downloaded it, even though there was only one possible candidate who could benefit from that upgrade. Yet another sign that she was seriously troubled by what we had discovered so far.<p>

The next data log we stumbled across made things worse, and not just because there was a dead quarian lying nearby. _"Who's running this system diagnostic?" _a female quarian asked. _"I didn't authorize... oh, Keelah. How many geth are networked?"_

"_All of them," _her colleague, a male quarian, replied. _"Rael'Zorah—"_

"_Shut it down!" _the female quarian ordered urgently. _"Shut everything down!"_

"_But..."_

"_Don't you understand? They're in the system!"_

If I didn't know better, I'd think Rael'Zorah and his buddies called up TIMmy and asked how Cerberus ran Project Overlord. Yet another sign that some things are truly universal. I tried not to look at anyone. Even a silent gesture like that might set Tali off—in anger or in tears. Or both.

It wasn't long before we entered another room full of surprises. Good surprises—like the laptops with accounts just asking to be hacked and the wall safe stuffed with creds. Bad surprises like the hunter and the third laptop that had another research log. I wished that the time spent shooting the hunter full of holes and shamelessly swiping creds could have lasted a little longer. It would have delayed the rather grim recording that awaited us from that female quarian we saw earlier:

"_We locked down navigation. Weapons are offline. Our mistake won't endanger the Fleet." _She paused and looked off to her left. We could hear a harsh sizzling in the silence. _"They're burning through the door. I don't have much time. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

Sparks started flying through the air as the geth gradually cut through the door. _"Jona, if you get this, be strong for Daddy."_

Then the door exploded. The quarian ducked, somehow avoiding most of the shrapnel. As dust billowed through the room, she made her way back to the vid-cam._ "Mommy loves you very much!" _she called out before a hail of gunfire cut her down. Mercifully, the recording ended there.

It was with a curious sense of detachment that I hacked a nearby wall safe for creds and led the squad up a flight of stairs and into some sort of lab. Thankfully, the tingling on the back of my neck brought me back to my senses. I ordered the squad into cover just before the geth arrived.

The geth attacked us from two doors on the other side of the lab. Miranda zapped one of the geth's shields with an EMP, opening the way for Samara to yank it up into the air. While Grunt finished it off with a concussive shot, Kasumi fired off an EMP of her own at another geth. I took it out with a simple head-shot.

As I lowered my sniper rifle, I saw that Team Two was having similar success with 'their' group of geth, though they'd chosen to go for the 'zap n' hack' routine. To each their own.

Then I saw another hunter sneaking around under cloak. Miranda's omni-tool was still charging up another EMP, so I was forced to take out its shields the old-fashioned way. Once I'd done that with a full thermal clip worth of ammo, Legion hacked the sucker. It was quick to open fire on a geth trooper who, up to that point, had been tagging along behind it.

I looked over at Team Two just in time to see a pair of troopers getting awfully close. Thankfully, Jack was able to knock them back with a biotic shockwave. Thane followed up by hitting one of those geth with a biotic attack of his own, before finishing it off with a sniper shot. Meanwhile, Zaeed chose to take out the other geth with his assault rifle and a lot of cursing.

That left three more geth-including another cloaked hunter. I got Miranda and Kasumi to drop a pair of EMPs over its head. Tali had already deployed Chikkita against a trooper and Legion was otherwise occupied, so it was up to me to co-opt it with my woefully pitiful hacking protocols. It only bought us a couple seconds worth of temporary ally, but it was better than nothing. Especially since all three geth were severely damaged by the time the hack wore off.

It probably goes without saying that we finished them off, quickly searched around for any valuables and left the room. Same with the next room, though that one also had a computer. I tried my luck with it. After a couple minutes, I gave up and turned around. "Tali?" I invited. "This console might have something, but most of the data's corrupted."

She took a look for herself. "Yes it is," she agreed, "but a few bits are still intact." Using her omni-tool, Tali sifted through the computer's database. "Well?" I asked when she turned around.

"They were performing experiments on geth systems, looking for new ways to overcome geth resistance to reprogramming," she reported.

"And none of this sounds familiar?" I pressed. "You're _sure_ you didn't know what kind of experiments your father was running?"

Tali shook her head. "No. Father just told me to send back any geth technology I could find that wasn't a direct danger to the Fleet. I suspected he might be testing weapons, but I thought he was just working on new ways to bypass shields or armour."

"Even so, we're talking about subjecting sapient beings to these experiments," I argued. "Do you think testing weapons—even cyberweapons—on the geth was right?"

"It's not testing weapons on prisoners," Tali insisted. "I only sent Father parts. Even if he assembled them, they wouldn't be sapient."

And that made it all better? Tali must have seen the doubting look on my face, as she quickly added: "You saw what Saren and Sovereign did with the geth. Any research that gives us an advantage is important."

I still had my doubts—a lot of them—but I set them aside for the moment. I could always argue with her later. "Could any of this data help clear your name?"

"Doubtful," Tali sighed. "This is mostly results data. Effects of different disruptive hacking techniques. I don't understand all of it. But… they may have been activating the geth deliberately. I don't know. Nothing here says specifically. But if they were… then Father was doing something terrible."

Why did I have the feeling she was talking about putting the Fleet at risk and not creating a sick little amusement park?

"What was all this, Father?" Tali asked out loud. "You promised you'd build me a house on the homeworld. Was this going to bring us back home?"

"Maybe it's time for your people to let go of reclaiming your world from the geth?" I suggested.

Tali slowly turned and advanced on me. "You have no idea what it's like! You have a planet to go back to! My home is one hull breach away from extinction!"

"So is mine," I argued. **(3)** "Home is about who you're with and where you belong. You've got that already, Tali. Don't throw it away in a war you don't need."

"Don't need?" Tali echoed. "Shepard, if I don't wear a helmet in my own home, _I die!_ A single _kiss _could put me in the hospital!" Her voice grew more ragged as she continued. "Every time you touch a flower with bare fingers or inhale its fragrance without air filters, _you're doing something I can't!_"

Oh. Um. Oops. **(4) **

"Damn the Pilgrimage," she quietly raged. "Without it, I might never have known what I was missing. What we had lost when we lost our homeworld."

"Why couldn't you colonize a new world?" I asked. "There must have been discussions and studies to explore the idea."

"I told you on the Rayya, Shepard. We'd have enough difficulty reacclimating to our own native environment. Adjusting for exposure to a foreign colony would be even harder."

"But after generations of living aboard starships, wouldn't adapting to your homeworld be just as hard?" I argued.

"No," Tali shook her head. "It wouldn't. Going back home versus founding a new colony? It's the difference between 60 and 600 years. For anyone alive now to watch a sunset without a mask, we must take back our home.

"At the very least, we can take back one ship. Come on," she concluded, sweeping past me to continue through the ship.

"Team Two, take point," I belatedly ordered.

* * *

><p>As Team One started to follow, I saw a communication request on a private channel blink from the corner of my HUD.<p>

"Are you all right?" Miranda asked when I finally activated it.

"Considering we've shot a lot of geth, I guess," I tried. "But we still don't have any proof that might exonerate Tali."

Miranda wasn't buying it. "But we have found proof that her father was conducting dubious experiments on sapient beings, even if they are synthetic in origin. I can't help but note certain similarities between their research practises and those used by Cerberus."

So I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. "You picked up on that as well, huh?"

"I did."

"Is it just me, or is this a little... hinky?"

"Hard to say," Miranda sighed. "I can see the potential strategic advantages that could come from this research, but I could say the same with previous Cerberus projects. We both know how they turned out. And from what I've seen, it appears that Rael'Zorah and the crew of the Alarei met the same fate."

"Hard to think about it," I sympathized.

"I'm trying not to," Miranda admitted. "I—what was that?"

Our private chat was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire. Rushing into the next room, we found ourselves on a catwalk with a stairway heading down to a lower deck. Geth were entering that deck through a door at the far end. Looking around, I quickly settled on a course of action. "Miranda, Kasumi, Legion; attack this geth."

Obeying my commands, they quickly proceeded to suborn a previously-hidden geth hunter. As the hunter opened fire on the closest trooper, I opened the squad channel. "Tali; be ready to hack that hunter again when needed. Meanwhile, Team One attack the closest trooper; Team Two attack the geth coming through the door!"

The geth had gotten reinforcements. Just troopers, from what I could tell, but there were a lot of them. Grabbing my sniper rifle, I was starting to aim at one of them when I felt some bullets hit my shields. Looking over to my left, I saw a lone geth trooper over on our left. Either it had materialized out of thin air or it crawled through the ducts and out of an access hatch onto the upper level. While there was a lot of debris preventing it from sneaking around and flanking us, it could still hit us with weapons fire. Thankfully, the same applied for yours truly. Activating my cloak, I took a step to get a better angle, breathed out and squeezed the trigger.

As the geth trooper collapsed, I quickly assessed the battlefield. Ordering Tali to re-hack the hunter, I assigned each team a new geth trooper to take out. Then I got Mordin's attention. Pointing to the access hatch, I asked "Think you can keep any more geth from popping out?"

Mordin gave a decisive nod before melting its latch with a well-aimed burst of plasma. A very bright burst of plasma, I noted. Took a while to blink away the afterimage, I noted, as it kept ghosting up the stairs...

Aw, crap.

Before I could give an order or warning, the hunter had reached the top of the stairs and had decloaked. Thankfully, everyone knew what to do. A quick barrage of fire from the entire squad wiped out its shields, leaving it wide open for Legion to work their digital magic. Now we had two hunters wreaking havoc—and attracting all the weapons fire.

Still, that was too close a call for my liking. There was no sense in preserving a temporary ally if it meant risking our necks. "Change of plans," I announced. "Team Two; keep hitting targets of opportunity. Team One, we're going to help the geth take out one of the hunters before it can shake off the hack."

For once, my timing was perfect. About thirty seconds later, one of the hunters restored its IFF protocols and starting gunning for us again. Too bad that we were already shooting it. It had only made it halfway up the stairs when Grunt sent it flying, courtesy of a concussive shot to the knee. It tumbled all the way back down and never got back up again.

I checked my HUD once again. One hunter and three troopers were left. "Tali, hack the last hunter again," I called out after checking my sensor readings. "Everyone else, hold your fire." I waited to see which trooper the hacked hunter attacked, just so the squad could gang up on it too. After that unfortunate synthetic collapsed, I decided to hit the big fish next. That way, we'd only have the small fry to deal with.

Before we knew it, all the hostile geth were down. "Team One's going down to secure the lower deck," I decided. "Team Two: keep an eye on that door in case any more geth show up."

As it turned out, there were no geth party crashers, so I was able to loot the lower deck in peace. Then I motioned for Team Two to come on down. They joined us just as I accessed another research log:

"_First entry: Our hacking attempts failed. The geth have an adaptive consciousness. Hack one__process and the others auto-correct. Still, we're making progress. Rael'Zorah is convinced we'll have a viable system in less than a year."_

Boy, that made the body we found in the adjoining hallway all the more depress—

"Father!"

...

_Shit_.

"No! No, no, no!" she cried, pushing past me and dropping to her knees. She activated her omni-tool, no doubt trying to patch into her father's hardsuit sensors and detect any life signs. "You always had a plan. Masked life signs or... or an onboard medical stasis program, maybe. You, you wouldn't... they're wrong!" she wailed, shaking her father as if trying to wake him up. "You wouldn't just die like this! You wouldn't leave me to clean up your mess! You can't—"

"Hey," I interrupted gently. "Hey, c'mere." I pulled her to her feet. She collapsed into my arms, weeping and sniffling. I could feel her shaking and quivering, even through my hardsuit.

"Damn it!" Tali sobbed. "Damn it." She pulled away from me, took several deep breaths and tried to compose herself. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

Typical Tali. She'd just lost her dad, and yet she was apologizing to _us _for taking a minute of our 'precious time' to grieve. "You've got nothing to be sorry about," I insisted.

"Maybe," Tali sniffed, "maybe he would have known I'd come. Maybe he left a message."

She crouched down and started poking at her father's omni-tool before I could warn her against any more false hope. To my surprise, there was a message. _"Tali," _a voice echoed throughout the room, _"if you are listening, then I am dead. The geth have gone active. I don't have much time. Their main hub will be on the bridge. You'll need to destroy it to stop their VI processes from forming new neural links. Make sure Han'Gerrel and Daro'Xen see the data. They must—" _

A sudden clang was the last thing we heard before the message ended, but we got what we needed. "Thanks, Dad," Tail said quietly. She moved her father's hands to rest over his chest before slowly getting to her feet.

"He knew you'd come for him," I offered. "He was trying to help you. It's not perfect. It's not what you wanted. But it's the best he could do."

"I don't know what's worse," Tali replied slowly, "thinking he never really cared or thinking that he did and that this was the only way he could show it."

Yeah. That conundrum really sucked. And now she'd never know the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Tali continued, resolve creeping into her voice. "One way or the other, _I _cared. And _I'm_ here. And we're _ending_ this."

"Damn straight," I nodded.

* * *

><p>After quickly searching for any more goodies, we headed up a flight of stairs to the bridge. Through a thick pane of bulletproof glass, we could see six or seven geth, including a geth prime and a geth hunter. Miraculously, all of them were facing away from us.<p>

Using my HUD and hand signals, I selected targets for the squad. "Got it?" I mouthed. Everybody nodded before getting into position. They watched as I held up three fingers and silently counted down. When I reached zero, I made a fist, pumped my arm down and the party started.

Miranda zapped a trooper's shields, clearing the way for Legion to hack it. Garrus and Tali did the same with another trooper. While the geth suddenly attacked their hacked counterparts—the ones that were easiest to hack, I might add—the rest of the squad opened fire on the geth hunter before it had a chance to cloak. Within a minute, the hunter was down. The hacked troopers weren't faring much better. "Weapons free!" I yelled.

That was the cue for each team to attack any targets of opportunity, preferably without risking their own necks. The hacked geth restored their IFF protocols just long enough to point their weapons the right way before we took them down. Two more troopers quickly bit the dust—assuming quarian ships and their super-efficient filter had dust. I spotted the last geth trooper trying to get the jump on us. I also noticed that it had no shields. So I hacked it.

The trooper pointed its weapon at the geth prime and... did nothing. It just stood there. After a moment, I realized that the bulletproof glass was in the way. I waited for the trooper to sidestep around the glass and join the squad in attacking the geth prime. Instead, the trooper just stood there. I waited for my hack to wear off—by which point the squad had drained the prime's shields—and ordered Tali to hack the trooper. The trooper just stood there.

Oh for crying out loud.

Grunt saw what was happening. "Can I punch it?" he asked hopefully.

"Fine," I sighed.

As I sent a bolt of plasma towards the prime, Grunt cheerfully smashed the trooper into the glass until its flashlight head was as flat as a dinner plate. The rest of the squad alternated attacks, with each team attacking the prime with everything they could bring to bear, then retreating when it turned around and presented its back to the other team. By the time the prime had deduced our strategy, we'd broken through its armour.

Unfortunately, the prime settled on a new strategy that was right out of Grunt's playbook. Raising its machine gun, it stomped towards Team Two. They ducked back just in time, milliseconds before a stream of bullets cut through their last location. "Legion, hack it!" I ordered before it could get a clear shot at Garrus or anyone else.

The geth prime came to a sudden halt. For a moment, I thought it had fallen prey to the same stupid behaviour the trooper did earlier. Then I figured it out: now that the geth prime was under our control, it would stop attacking us and attack the nearest hostile... only there were no more hostiles in the area. So, the only remaining option was to just stand there.

Worked for us: everyone opened fire without waiting for my say-so. Its exterior shell was about 75% compromised when it finally rebooted. It turned to attack the closest opponent. Which was me, for some reason. Figures. It took two giant steps forward and loomed over me, far too close for me to bring any of my weapons to bear. So I hit it with my fists. Over and over again.

It seemed to take forever, but the prime finally collapsed to the ground. Everyone stared at me. I thought they were marvelling at the fact that I went mano-a-mano against a geth prime and won. It was pretty impressive, now that I thought about it. I mean, that thing was almost twice my size and—

"Um, Shepard," Garrus coughed, "did you realize that you defeated it by punching... well, by punching what passes for its crotch?"

Oh. Right. Awkward...

"Ooh, look: another ship to add to my collection," I blurted out. Partly to distract the squad; partly because I didn't have a model quarian ship hanging in my quarters. The funny thing is that it worked. The squad quickly split up to sweep the room for loot. Well, most of us. Tali was busy tinkering with a computer console—the one all the geth had been clustered around when we entered the bridge.

"This console is linked to the main hub Father mentioned," Tali explained when I joined her. "I just finished inserting some kill commands that will shut down any geth we missed."

"Good idea," I nodded. "Anything else?"

"Well..." Tali paused before answering me. "It looks like some of the recordings from the research logs remained intact. They may tell us how this happened. What Father did."

"You sure you want to hear it?" I asked. "Any one of us could peruse the recordings instead."

"No, I have to do this," Tali shook her head. "I just—this is terrible, Shepard. I don't want to know that he was a part of this."

Tali visibly steeled herself before entering some more commands into her omni-tool. We had to skip through the recordings that we'd already viewed before we found a new one:

"_Do we have enough parts to bring more online?" _Rael'Zorah was asking.

"_Yes," _a male quarian confirmed. _"The new shipment from your daughter will let us add two more geth to the network."_

"_Your daughter?" _the female quarian we saw earlier repeated. _"I didn't realize Tali'Zorah was assisting the project."_

"_She isn't," _Rael'Zorah replied. _"Not to her knowledge, anyway. I just asked her to send any interesting geth parts to me. How is the research progressing?" _

"_We're nearing a breakthrough on systemic viral attacks," _the female quarian replied. _"Perhaps we should inform the Admiralty Board, just to be safe."_

"_No," _Rael'Zorah replied immediately. _"We're too close. I promised to build my daughter a house on the homeworld. I'm not going to break that promise just because I sat around and waited while the politicians argued."_

Aw, crap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tali wearily shaking her head.

"_We'd have an easier time if Tali'Zorah could send back more working material," _the male quarian suggested. _"Even a few specific components would be more useful than an entire shipment of random parts. I've been compiling a list that could speed up our progress—" _

"_Absolutely not," _Rael'Zorah said firmly. _"Tali was kept in the dark for a reason. I don't want her exposed to _any _political blowback."_

"_But—"_

"_Leave. Tali. Out of this. Understood?"_

"_Yes, Admiral."_

"_Good," _Rael'Zorah nodded_. "Assemble new geth with what we have. Bypass security protocols if need be."_

The quarians continued chatting, but we tuned them out. We had gotten the gist of it. This recording, backed up with all the others, was the smoking gun we were looking for. Unfortunately, it came with one horrible caveat. "It sounds like he was doing it for you," I finally offered.

"I never wanted this, Shepard," Tali replied in despair. "Keelah, I never wanted this." She started to pace back and forth. "Everything here is his fault! The research, the deaths, everything! I tried to pretend it didn't point to him, but this… When this comes up in the trial, they'll…"

Tali whirled back towards me. "We can't tell them. Not the admirals, not anyone."

"Why? These recordings exonerate you. Rael'Zorah specifically said he didn't want you to be caught in the politics. I mean, yes they also indicate he had—"

"You don't understand, Shepard," Tali interrupted. "They would strike his name from the manifest of every ship he ever served on. He would be worse than an exile. He'd be a _traitor_ to our people, held up for children as a _monster_ in a cautionary tale!"

"Look, I get that he's your father and you don't want to besmirch his name. But maybe a cautionary tale's what your people need. He fooled around with living, thinking, _sapient _beings. He deliberately used his position to override any safety protocol. And all he got out of it was the death of every quarian on this ship and creating a clear and present danger to the rest of his people."

"I know that," Tali said. "I do. But he's done so much for my people. He gave them courage to continue in our darkest times. Provided strength and guidance when they needed it most. I can't let all the good he did be destroyed for this, Shepard."

"Tali, he kept you in the dark to protect you," I reminded her. "To ensure that if something like this trial occurred, you wouldn't be implicated or exiled. Which is exactly what's gonna happen if we don't hand over this evidence!"

"You think I don't know that?" Tali cried out. "You think I want to live knowing that I can never see the Fleet again? But I can't go back into that room and say that my father was the worst war criminal in our people's history. I cannot!"

You know, ever since I'd known Tali, my position on her father had been ambivalent at best. It wasn't until this point that I realized how low my opinion of him had sunk. Here was a woman who grew up to be a smart, courageous, selfless member of quarian and galactic society, no thanks to a dad who basically kept her at arm's length during her childhood. Now he expected her to clean up after his colossal screw-up, even if it meant permanent exile. And the worst part? She was _volunteering to do it_. Maybe I'm biased from my own daddy issues, but I couldn't help but think that Rael'Zorah didn't deserve a daughter like Tali.

"We're not going to decide anything here," I sighed. "Let's see what the admirals say once we get back."

"You're my captain in this hearing, Shepard," Tali replied. "It's your decision. But please: don't destroy what my father was."

"We'd better get going," I said after a pause.

"Agreed," Tali nodded. "If we wait too long, they'll decide we're already dead… and none of this will matter."

* * *

><p>Tali wasn't kidding. The trial had already resumed by the time we returned to the Rayya. <em>"We need to face facts,"<em> we heard Koris say when we passed through the airlock. Guess the trial was being broadcasted over the PA. Heck, for all I knew, it was being broadcasted throughout the entire Fleet. _"There has been no word. There is no reason to think Tali'Zorah survived."_

"_We must trust Shepard's offer of assistance!"_ Raan said. _"It has only been a few hours!"_

"_The quarian marines lasted less than five minutes, Admiral,"_ Gerrel cried bitterly. _"We have to call it."_

"_A pity Shepard vas Normandy was a better speaker than a soldier," _Koris sniffed. _"I recommend posthumously exiling Tali'Zorah."_

"_What?" _Gerrel burst out.

"We'd better double-time it," I suggested.

"_It was agreed that Tali'Zorah would not be convicted if she were killed in action!"_ Raan protested as we broke into a jog.

"_It was _suggested_, Admiral,"_ Koris corrected her. _"I recall no agreement. To that end, I call for an immediate vote."_

I think I was starting to dislike him again.

"Very well," Raan sighed as we burst into the atrium. "Is the Admiralty Board prepared to render judgement?"

The squad pushed and shoved our way into the amphitheatre until we faced the Admiralty Board. "Sorry we're late," Tali said sarcastically.

I may have been a little more blunt. "You didn't waste much time declaring us dead. Go get your ship. That is, unless you wanted to place another bet."

"We apologize, Shepard," Gerrel tried. "Your success in taking back the Alarei is… very unexpected."

Really? I hadn't noticed.

"But also very welcome," Raan smoothly added.

"Did you find anything on the Alarei that could clarify what happened there?" Gerrel asked.

I glanced at Tali before stepping forward. "Shepard…" Tali whispered as I passed her. "Please…"

Argh. I hated this. I really did. Either I screw Tali over by letting her be the scapegoat or I turn quarian society on its head by letting the hammer drop. Wasn't there a third option? I looked around at the crowd, hoping for inspiration.

"Does Captain Shepard have any new evidence to submit to this hearing?" Raan intoned.

I turned back slightly, looking sideways at Raan…

Sideways…

Hmm.

Maybe there was.

"Tali's achievements are the only evidence you should need," I snapped. "Come on, Tali. We're leaving."

"What?" Raan sputtered. To be fair, my squad was equally confused.

"This is a formal proceeding!" Koris shouted.

"Bullshit!" I shouted back, my mind racing now that I'd seized the initiative. "This is a sham! You're trying to build sympathy for the geth to forestall the war effort!"

"That—that is completely—"

Ignoring Koris, I whirled on Gerrel. "And you, Admiral Gerrel, you want all the messy experiments covered up so you can throw the Fleet—and your people—at the geth!"

"I… I…"

"And let's not forget Admiral Xen, who just wants to subjugate the geth to fuel her sick fantasies and delusions of grandeur."

Xen didn't say a word. Which made it easier to hear all the muttering that was going on around me.

"If this trial really was about Tali, then we'd be focusing on everything she's done and accomplished. She knows more about the geth than any quarian alive. She's risked her life for the Fleet and the galaxy time and time again. On the Alarei, on Haestrom, hell, on the Citadel when she stopped Saren! She's been the most positive example of the potential and selflessness of the quarian people since who knows when!"

"But no, rather than acknowledge her years of service, you'd rather drag her name through the mud without giving her even a second to prepare. You'd rather put her on trial before telling her that her father _might be dead! _And then, rather than have the decency to let her process that, you chose to manipulate her into cleaning up _your _mess. Hell, you couldn't even give her a chance to clear her name before voting on her guilt! Not to mention broadcasting this crap throughout the entire Fleet like a bunch of tabloid hacks! All so you can push your own private agendas!

"Is _this_ what Tali spent her life trying to protect? Is _this_ what she gets in return? She deserves better than that!"

I saw some jostling out of the corner of my eye. Looked like my half-assed plan was paying off. The natives were getting restless. Two of them, in fact, were making their way towards us.

"Wait!"

To my surprise, Veetor was one of the two quarians. He pushed his way to join us, beating Kal'Reegar by a few steps. "Shepard is right!" he panted. "Tali saved me on Freedom's Progress! She doesn't deserve to be exiled!"

"Damn straight!" Kal'Reegar barked, positively quivering with outrage. "Tali's done more for this Fleet than you assholes ever will! You're pissing on everything I fought for! Everything Tali's fought for! So if you exile her...

"...you might as well do the same to me."

Ooh. That was a good one.

"Me, too," Veetor said firmly.

The quarians were definitely getting restless. And angry. There was a lot of nodding and shuffling and fist-shaking. Xen hastily activated her omni-tool and tapped some holographic button. Gerrel was quick to follow. I guess they were voting on Tali's fate before they got lynched.

Curiously enough, Koris just watched his fellow admirals before turning to look at Tali. They stared at each other for a minute. Then he activated his own omni-tool and cast his vote. **(5)**

"Tali'Zorah," Raan formally announced, "in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges."

About damn time!

"Commander Shepard, please accept this gift in appreciation for you taking the time to represent one of our people."

It was a good thing I was wearing my helmet. Otherwise, the entire Fleet might have witnessed my drooling over the tasty tech upgrade that was dangling in front of me. Before I snatched it in a most undignified manner, I had one more thing to say: "If you really want to thank me, then listen: the Reapers are coming. I'm going to need your help to stop them. Please: don't throw your lives away against the geth. Stop this fixation on retaking your homeworld by force and find another way."

"Thank you, Commander Shepard," Koris said. "I hope this board carefully considers your advice." **(6)**

Was the fact that he addressed me by my proper rank a compliment or an insult?

"This trial is concluded," Raan pronounced. "Go in peace, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. Keelah se'lai."

"Keelah se'lai," the crowd echoed.

* * *

><p>With the so-called trial concluded, everyone started to disperse. The quarians were still talking excitedly about its conclusion as they passed us.<p>

"I can't believe Tali and her captain took back the Alarei," one quarian whispered.

"I can't believe the speech her captain gave," another quarian replied. "Did you hear it? Keelah!"

"The admirals would have faced a coup if they'd exiled Tali'Zorah after what Shepard said," a third one said knowingly.

Tali slowly turned to face me after the crowd dispersed. "I can't believe you pulled that off. What you said... it's been a while since anyone shouted down the Admiralty Board. I think it was good for them."

"In my experience, superiors need to be shouted at every now and then," Garrus said sagely.

Heh, heh. "You think they need some more?" I suggested. "They haven't left the atrium yet. We can still drag them back and shout at them again if you want."

"Thanks, but I'm fine with things like this," Tali laughed. "Though it's fun watching you shout." She paused before continuing to more serious matters. "Shepard, I've never had anyone speak like that on my behalf. Thank you for being there for my father and I, even when..." She stopped talking for a moment, struggling to compose herself. "Thank you," she managed at last.

"Tali," I said softly, "about what your father said and what he did? You deserved better."

"I got better, Shepard," Tali replied simply. "I got you."

For some reason, I felt this lump in my throat. "Come on, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy," I said once I swallowed it down. "Let's get back to our ship."

"Thank you... Captain."

Somehow, that promotion in rank didn't sound so wrong coming from her.

* * *

><p>Naturally we didn't go straight back to the Normandy. Kept bumping into people who wanted to chat.<p>

"Very impressive speech, Commander Shepard," Xen complimented me. "But tell me truly, did you recover any of Rael'Zorah's research on the Alarei?"

"Nothing that would help you, Admiral," Tali said firmly. Clearly she didn't want the nutjob getting her hands on anything like that.

"Pity. Ah, well," Xen shrugged. "Whatever is created can be recreated. In any event, I am pleased that our talk regarding the war conundrum allowed you to help Tali. Her exile would have been unfortunate."

"You should abandon your plans, Admiral," I told her. "They're only going to make the situation worse."

"We shall see, Commander. Many things are impossible until they are done."

Oookay. That wasn't creepy.

* * *

><p>"Nice talking, Shepard," Kal greeted me. "Funny how it takes a commander to remind the admirals about military honour."<p>

"I guess they're too busy filling out paperwork in triplicate to remember silly little things like that," I sighed. "Priorities, you know?"

We shared a laugh before Tali stepped forward. "Kal, thank you. I can't believe you did that."

"You'd have done the same for me, ma'am," Kal shrugged. "Figured I had to say something when you didn't use that evidence you found on the Alarei."

Tali stiffened. "I didn't say anything about finding evidence, Kal."

"Noticed that, ma'am," Kal replied mildly.

Heh. Guess Kal read between the lines. Or Tali's body posture. Nice to meet a soldier who was a bit more than a dumb grunt. **(7) **"Any idea what your next assignment is going to be?"

"I'm going to be escorting more techs around to look for signs of dark energy buildup," Kal said. "Maybe see if they can figure out what's causing it. Wherever they send me, I hope it'll be less exciting than Haestrom."

"That hope might not last long," I frowned. "Especially if you do go to war. Speaking of which, that's your take on that? Do you think the admirals are really going to try to retake the homeworld?"

Kal shook his head. "I won't shy away from a fight, but if the admirals throw the Fleet at the geth, all they'll get back is scrap metal and body parts. The best bet would be for us to find another way. But a soldier can't say unless his superiors ask."

"Don't I know it," I groaned. "Well, we gotta get going. I appreciate your help, Kal. To be honest, I'm not sure what I would have done if you and Veetor hadn't stood up to help."

Kal waved off my thanks. "I'm sure you'd have figured something out. Stay safe out there, Shepard. Ma'am."

"Kal, just call me Tali," she told him softly.

"I... I'll work on that, ma'am," Kal said formally.

Oh well. Baby steps, I guess.

* * *

><p>Next, Tali ran over to Veetor. Knowing how awkward he was in social situations, she stopped short of tackling him in a bear hug. "Veetor, I can't believe you stood up and spoke for me," she said.<p>

"Oh..." Veetor clearly wasn't expecting anyone to thank him for sticking his neck out. "Well, it's good Reegar was there," Veetor said modestly—and nervously, judging by the way he was bouncing up and down on his feet. "He said most of it."

"Veetor," Tali said knowingly, "thank you."

"Oh, um, okay," Veetor replied awkwardly. "And thank you, Shepard. For... for helping me and Tali."

"I should be thanking you," I smiled. "It took a lot of guts to do what you did."

He glanced at Dr. Elan'Shiya. It was only then that I'd noticed she hadn't looked at us. She'd been staring at Veetor the entire time. In fact, she hadn't taken her eyes off of Veetor since the trial concluded. I guess this debacle had shown the true character of a lot of people.

"Well... maybe," Veetor mumbled at last. "Good luck out there, Tali. And you too, Commander."

* * *

><p>"The admirals thought they were hobbling you by forcing you to represent Tali, Shepard," Rann chuckled when we bumped into her. "I'm glad they were wrong."<p>

"So am I," I grinned.

"You didn't mention survivors." Rann said quietly. "Did you find Rael, Tali? I'm sure he would have left you a message if he'd had time."

"We found his body," I replied after a quick glance at Tali. "He did leave a message for Tali." Figured I should keep it short and simple.

"I can only imagine how horrible this is for you, child," Rann said sorrowfully, "but at least you got to hear your father tell you he loved you."

"Yes," Tali whispered. "Thank you, Auntie Rann."

"Congratulations, Tali," Rann said. "Your father would be proud. Good luck on your mission, and remember: no matter how dark it gets, the Fleet is always with you. Keelah se'lai."

* * *

><p>When we talked to Gerrel, he didn't waste any time before coming straight to the point. "You called us out on the carpet out there, Shepard. And you were right. Thank you. Tali shouldn't have been involved in that argument."<p>

"Agreed," I replied. "I'm glad we finally agree on something." See: I can be diplomatic every now and then.

"Mind you, it was about time someone reminded Admiral Koris the woman he was accusing of treason is the pride of the Fleet," Gerrel said, clearly not content to leave things alone. As evidenced by his next question: "Tell me, though, honestly: what did you find over there? You spoke well, but I know a feint when I see it."

All those years of political talking and manoeuvring must've been good for something, I suppose. "We found a lot of..." I started before pausing and turning to Tali, as if I wanted to spare her feelings. The fact that that was true only added to the deception.

Tali played along. "We found a lot of dead bodies, Admiral, including my father's. That's all. Whatever research they were doing was destroyed."

"I'll take your word for it, Tali. Not that I have much choice."

Ah. Guess Gerrel wasn't completely buying our lie, but at least he wasn't going to push it. Unlike me: "You do have a choice about going to war with the geth," I said pointedly. "Face it: you're outmanned and outgunned. If you try and pursue this by force, you'll lose too many ships and too many lives that, by the time it's all over, your victory is gonna be awfully hollow. You've gotta find another way."

"We'll see."

Why was I not reassured in the slightest?

"Fight well and fly safe, kid," Gerrel nodded, turning to Tali. "Your father would be proud of you."

* * *

><p>Of course, we couldn't leave without chatting with the pompously courteous Admiral of the Qwib-Qwib. "Very impressive, Shepard," Koris complimented me. "Thank you for your help on the Alarei. And thank you for helping Rael'Zorah's daughter. You stood for her when we failed. We were wrong to let our own concerns about the war overshadow Tali's trial."<p>

See, this is what made it so confusing. He caused the most grief for Tali during the trial, yet he seemed the most sincere when it came to his apologies. And his convictions: "Your timing may have sucked, but the galaxy needs more people saying what you're saying," I said. "Good luck."

"Good luck to you, Shepard. And to you, Tali."

* * *

><p>With all that taken care of, we headed for the airlock. Time to go back to more familiar ground. After the quarians scanned our suit databases to remove anything that might get back to Cerberus, of course. Kar'Danna met us there while they finished the scans. "Congratulations, Tali'Zorah," he greeted her.<p>

"Thank you, Captain," Tali nodded. "I'm just glad that this is over."

Kar'Danna harrumphed a bit before continuing. "I must admit I was skeptical about your choice in captains, but I see now that I was wrong."

Normally I'd take offense, but if I was in his boots, I'd be wondering what Tali saw in a kleptomaniac with appalling luck too. "You wouldn't be doing your job as Tali's captain if you didn't worry about her," I assured him.

"Thank you for your understanding," Kar'Danna said. "Tali, you'll always have a place on the Rayya, whenever you decide to come home. Good luck out there."

Before I left, I hacked into the Rayya's PA system and uploaded a song. It started playing as we shuffled into the airlock. Just a little something for the Admiralty Board—and the quarians—to think about:

_"Don't you know what time it is?__  
><em>_It's the new time. __  
><em>_All disciples gathering by the boats.__  
><em>_But your revolution is chasing its tail, __  
><em>_You love to take the wind out of my sail, __  
><em>_But not this time._

_"In between commercial breaks, __  
><em>_It's a new war.__  
><em>_Men with books have run away to the coast.__  
><em>_All the ladies quit calling them back, __  
><em>_And starting plotting a counter attack. __  
><em>_You foolish animals! _

_"__She's out in the park conducting the birds, __  
><em>_Trying to remember which bicycle's hers.__  
><em>_Filling her pockets with handfuls of dirt, __  
><em>_It's amazing. __  
><em>_Out in the park."_ **(8) **

* * *

><p>A couple hours after we returned to the Normandy, I dropped by Engineering to see how Tali was doing. "Keelah, I'm sorry I dragged you into quarian politics." She shook her head in dismay. "All that infighting, seeing what my father did... you were the only one there for me, Shepard—the only cover I had against that storm. Thank you."<p>

"You're welcome," I nodded. "I imagine they're trying to fill your father's spot on the Admiralty Board. What will that do to the balance of power?"

"I have no idea," Tali shrugged. "In hindsight, being exiled might have made it easier."

"Easier?" I echoed.

"A few people are suggesting me as a candidate."

Judging by what I'd seen, that would be a heck of an improvement. Then again, they say that the best leaders are the one who don't want anything to do with it. **(9)** "I thought you said a while ago that being on the Admiralty Board wasn't hereditary," I reminded her.

"It isn't. But after everything you said... I guess it gave people a couple ideas. Not that we have to worry about it right now: replacing an admiral takes time. You may not have noticed, but quarians like to debate."

"It did seem that way," I agreed. "Um, Tali... are quarian politics always like that?"

"No. Sometimes, it can actually get unpleasant."

Oh, really?

"We're a very social people, Shepard. We have to be, to make up for being stuck in these suits. And part of that means getting involved in each other's business."

"You ask me, the whole trial was a goddamn insult," Ken shouted out. Or tried to shout out, as he was buried in the guts of one of the computers.

Gabby kicked him, but evidently agreed with his sentiments. "You should have had time to mourn your father, Tali."

"I don't think life is about what you deserve," Tali replied thoughtfully. "But my father would be honoured that I chose to mourn him by blowing up a lot of geth."

Yes. Because violence is the cause—and solution—of all of life's problems.

"I should get back to work," Tali said. "But thanks for checking on me."

* * *

><p>I thought things were going quite well, all things considered. Helped Tali out, got a few toys and even a little insight into quarian politics. Yes, Tali's father was killed, but at least it wasn't through any fault of Tali's. And judging by that conversation, Tali was feeling better. All in all, it was a pretty good day.<p>

Maybe I should have paid a bit more attention to the way said conversation ended. If I had, things might not have gone straight to hell.

It had been an hour or so after we returned to the Normandy. I was passing through the mess hall when I saw Tali get out of the elevator. Seemed a bit unusual, but I figured she was just hungry for a tube of protein paste or something. So I just waved to her and resumed my walk to see Garrus. I was just at the door when Joker contacted me. _"Um, Commander? Tali just went to have a 'chat' with Legion. You'd better get down to the AI core."_

Of course she did. Shaking my head, I made an immediate about-face and headed for sickbay. "I'm on it, Joker."

When I burst into sickbay, Dr. Chakwas was already on her feet and pointing towards the door leading to the AI core. "Tali just stormed in there a minute ago," she told me. "She was armed."

Of course she was. Which explained why Tali was pointing a pistol at Legion when I barged into the AI core. I made a mental note to talk to Jacob about that once this standoff was over.** (10)** "What's going on here?" I asked.

"Shepard, I'm glad you're here," Tali breathed a sigh of relief. "I caught Legion running a remote scan on my omni-tool. It was going to send data about the flotilla back to the geth."

I don't get paid enough to deal with crap like this.

"Creators performed weapons tests and were discussing plans to attack us," Legion explained. "We believed it necessary to warn our people."

"We already made the geth stronger by rewriting the ones that worshipped the Reapers!" Tali burst out, conveniently ignoring the fact that that wasn't exactly what happened. "I won't let Legion endanger the Fleet by giving them more information!"

I really don't.

"Creator Tali'Zorah acts out of loyalty to her people," Legion stated. "She was willing to be exiled to protect them. We must also protect our people from the Creator threat."

"You can't let this happen, Shepard," Tali implored. "I trusted you, and I worked with a geth on the squad, but this is too much!"

I took a deep breath. "Is it, Tali?" I asked. "Your father was running brutal experiments to bring geth to life before trying to kill them over and over again. If the subjects had been humans, I'd damn well be telling the Alliance about it. And if they were quarians, you'd be on the comm warning the Fleet in a heartbeat. Can you really blame Legion for doing the same?"

"I guess," Tali said hesitantly. "But if the geth find out—"

"They might attack," I interrupted. "Or they might bunker up and wait for the quarians to strike the first blow. Either way, unless the geth and the quarians realize how stupid this whole thing is, everything will escalate into a full-blown war. One that would leave both sides weakened and vulnerable when the Reapers show up to force every sapient race to accept their truths and further their future." I turned to Legion and paused to give them a few additional seconds to remember that particular conversation we had had. "Is that what you want, Legion?"

"We believed it was necessary to relay the informat—"

_"OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"_

I slammed the wall in frustration. Ignoring the crack that echoed throughout the room, and the pain that was suddenly throbbing from my hand, I glared at Tali and Legion. "Sooner or later, you're both gonna have to grow up and stop fighting this war! Or we'll _all_ end up paying for it."

...

...

...

"To facilitate unit cohesion, we will not transmit data regarding Creator plans."

"Thank you, Legion," Tali said grudgingly. "I understand your intention."

She lowered her pistol, much to my relief. I leaned over and plucked it from her hand before she could change her mind.

"What if I gave you some non-classified data to send instead?"

Did I hear that correctly?

Legion may have thought the same thing. However, they were able to recall that last bit—and verify their audio receptors weren't malfunctioning—a lot faster than I could. "We would be grateful," Legion replied.

I watched while Tali activated her omni-tool to pull up said non-classified data. Maybe Xen, of all people, was right: many things _were_ impossible until they were done. The smile on my face was matched by the one I saw Dr. Chakwas sporting when I turned around. "Well done, Commander," she congratulated me.

"I'm just glad there wasn't a firefight onboard," I shrugged.

"Quite," Dr. Chakwas nodded. "Tends to get rather messy, and I'd have to clean it up. Speaking of which, would you like me to take a look at your hand?"

"If it's not too much trouble," I said. "I think I broke it."

"One moment, please."

"While you're at it, get me a painkiller," I added. "I think I've got a headache."

* * *

><p><em>(1): Thankfully, Shepard didn't question why his team—either one—would question his orders.<em>

_(2): Many leaders face this scenario. Few are agonized by the dearth of desirable options. _

_(3): Tali'Zorah's words about humanity's home and possible extinction would prove to be hauntingly prophetic. _

_(4): To be fair, most people would have difficulty understanding how much they take for granted from the perspective of the quarians, and how rarely the quarians complain about it. _

_(5): Shepard never explained how each of the admirals voted. If he did find out, he kept it to himself._

_(6): Regrettably, history would show otherwise._

_(7): Oh, the irony. _

_(8): __'Out in the Park,' released by Sarah Slean in 2004. In hindsight, it was a remarkably prescient choice._

_(9): Indeed._

_(10): __Shepard later found out that Tali put the pistol together herself through various parts she cannibalized together. After scolding her for violating safety protocols, he asked how she pulled it off._


	36. Romance, Rescue and Ruin

**Chapter 23: Romance, Rescue and Ruin**

Things were going... well, they weren't going to hell. Yet. For once. Weapons were fine. Upgrades were installed. Progress was _finally _being made on that Reaper IFF—who would've thought integrating alien tech into our systems would be so damn complicated? My social life was actually humming above nonexistent, thanks to the 'office work dates' I'd been having with Miranda.

You may have noticed that I omitted descriptors like 'clandestine' or 'secret' from that last bit. It was a safe bet that at least one or two people were starting to notice. I was pretty sure it wasn't common scuttlebutt, simply because I wasn't getting secret looks from the crew and they weren't descending into secretive whispers whenever my back was turned. Nevertheless, some people were putting two and two together. **(1)**

My first hint was when I was bugging Mordin to see if he had a minute to talk. I figured he'd blow me off with his latest mad science experiment.

"Actually, wanted to talk. Medical matters."

Say what?

"Aware that mission is dangerous."

And he was just figuring that out now? I thought Mordin was a genius.

"Different species react differently to stress."

Right. He spoke faster than the average salarian. I shamelessly looted random rooms of their valuables.

"Sexual activity common for humans in such times. Understand it intellectually. Recommend caution when dealing with Cerberus."

Wait... did this mean he knew about me and...? Was he giving...? "You have a recommendation as a doctor?" I finally asked.

"Watch for bugs. Could be planted anywhere. Can perform exam later if necessary. Will need probes."

Did he just say _probes_?

"Biotic ability also gives benefits," Mordin continued, activating his omni-tool. "Forwarding booklet to your quarters. Includes diagrams, exercises, inventive uses of mass effect fields."

Inventive use of _what_?

"Can supply oils or ointments to reduce discomfort. Gave EDI electronic relationship demonstration vids to use as necessary."

"Wait a minute, Mordin," I grinned. "You're just yanking me around, aren't you?"

Mordin stiffened. "Shocking suggestion! Doctor-patient confidentiality a sacred trust. Would never dream of mockery... or yanking."

Um...

He reached over and patted me on the shoulder. "Enjoy yourself while possible, Shepard. Will be here, studying cell reproduction. Much simpler. Less alcohol and mood music required."

...I got nothing.

* * *

><p>The other person who made it clear that she was in the know was Kasumi. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have teased her about her collection of musty old books—many of which were cheesy romance novels. After defending the tactile pleasures of flipping musty old pages, she turned the tables on me.<p>

"Miranda is the last person I'd want pissed off at me," she said. "I guess you are as brave as they say."

"Come again?" I asked.

"It's really weird to see Miranda _smiling _while she's working," Kasumi said. "And it's all because of you."

"What are you trying to—"

"Shep," Kasumi interrupted firmly. "I'm not stupid. One of the side benefits of being a master thief is that you tend to pick up on what people are trying to hide. That goes double when you have a cloaking device."

Uh oh. "Kasumi..." I warned.

"Oh, don't worry," Kasumi reassured me. "My lips are sealed. I think it's wonderful that you two are finding some happiness together, especially in such stressful times. If anyone deserves it, it's you two."

"I'm still pinching myself to make sure I'm not dreaming," I said wryly.

"Oh, you're not."

"Just checking." Boy, this was getting intense. Time to distract Kasumi. The question was: with what? Past capers? Too obvious. Local scuttlebutt? Possible. A certain Armoury Officer? Oh yeah! "So, have you put the moves on Jacob yet?"

Even while hiding underneath her hood, I could see Kasumi smile. "Jacob... _MMMMMMM!_" she hummed dreamily. "He's pretty intense, don't you think?"

He was very intense and serious, I had to agree. I would also have to say that Kasumi was quite lighthearted and cheerful without being flighty or fickle. "Seems to me like the two of you would balance each other out nicely," I suggested.

"Maybe," Kasumi said. "Do you think he might like Japanese girls with a penchant for kleptomania?"

"_Shepard," _EDI called out over the comm before I could reply. _"There is a situation that requires your attention."_

"Did Grunt empty out the larders again?" I sighed.

"_No. We are receiving a distress call from a luxury resort on Eletania. It appears there is a hostage situation."_

"I see," I frowned. "And where is everyone else, might I ask? We aren't exactly in the neighbourhood."

"_Local security forces were ill-equipped to fend off the hostage-takers, nor are they capable of mounting any sort of rescue. Other sources of aid are at least two days away. We are the closest ship that is in a position to offer assistance."_

Oh goody. "Any other good news?" I asked.

"_Looks like the Reaper IFF is finally hooked up and ready to go," _Joker reported.

About time. That thing had been a pain in the neck ever since we swiped it from that derelict Reaper. Just about every report covering the installation of the damn thing could be summarized as: "Not working, not cooperating, error messages, crashed some other system, or all of the above." Until now, that is.

"_That is not entirely accurate, Mr. Moreau," _EDI corrected, much to my dismay. _"The device is powered up and functioning, but it is causing some unusual instability in other systems. I recommend a more thorough analysis before you attempt to use it."_

"We can't exactly put the mission on hold forever," I reminded them. "Sooner or later, we'll have to face the Collectors. How long will this take?"

I could hear Joker sigh in frustration. He was clearly just as annoyed as I was. _"Even a basic scan of a couple components takes an hour or two. A full scan? Who knows with this thing? Maybe you'd better take the shuttle for this mission. I'll make sure we're up and running when you get back."_

I glimpsed Kasumi scrolling through a message on her omni-tool just before a new voice entered the conversation. _"Commander? It's Miranda. I've already notified the rest of the squad."_

Great. Spending a nice prolonged trip crammed in a floating coffin with an entire squad donned in bulky armour and weapons. Guess I didn't have any other choice, though. I couldn't exactly hang out in my cabin and listen to jazz when there was something else that I could do. "Then I guess I'll start gearing up. Have everyone assemble in the comm room. Try to get some intel so we have some clue of what we're getting ourselves into. Joker, we'll depart in the shuttle once we've cleared the Attican Beta mass relay."

"_Understood, Commander."_

I headed for the door so I could grab my hardsuit from my cabin. "Oh, Shep," Kasumi called out as I was starting to leave.

"Yeah?"

"About Miranda? Be gentle with her."

I paused before silently acknowledging her with a nod and departing.

It didn't take long to suit up. Benefit of going on way too many dangerous assignments, I guess. Before I went to the armoury to grab my weapons, I checked my e-mail. There was a new message from Mordin. One with several attachments.

It couldn't be. I thought he was joking. I opened it, bracing myself for a virus attack.

...

He wasn't kidding. About anything he said he'd forward to me. This was...

...

Wait. That's actually possible?

* * *

><p>"OK, what do we know?" I asked once the squad was crammed into the comm room. <strong>(2) <strong>

"Eletania is a study in contrasts," Miranda started. "On the one hand, it is teeming with a rich variety of mosses, algae and lichen that adds a picturesque quality to the valleys and mountain formations that covers the planet. On the other hand, it also boasts a set of microscopic fauna that exists in a symbiotic relationship with the local flora... and causes anaphylactic shock to non-native—"

"Get to the point, Cheerleader," Jack interrupted impatiently.

Miranda gave her a single cold stare—which Jack returned—before summarizing: "It's very pretty, but breathing the air without filters or masks could kill you."

That I remembered all too well. Hackett had sent us there on one of his many random assignments to retrieve a recon satellite containing data on geth movements in the Attican Beta Cluster. We'd had to fully suit up before deploying. "So where is this luxury resort, exactly?" I asked.

"It is the latest addition to the chain of establishments owned and operated by Serenade Resorts," Miranda replied. "The resort is located near the equator, at the top of a mountain approximately 2200 metres above sea level. It seems it was chosen both for the view as well as the fact that its altitude was well out of the native range of the microscopic organisms."

So the staff and customers wouldn't have to worry about sneezing themselves to death. More importantly, we wouldn't either. Good to know. "What do we know about the situation over there? How many hostages? How many hostiles?"

Garrus took over. "We managed to contact the security commander and operations director. According to them, a shuttle crash-landed just outside the resort. The passengers got out, stormed the resort and took hostages."

"How many?"

"Twelve guests are currently registered as signed in, along with a support staff of sixty. Some of the guests and over half of the staff managed to escape to the outskirts of the resort, but that still leaves about thirty hostages trapped. Vid-recordings of the initial assault suggests anywhere from nine to twelve hostiles."

"What do they want?" Jacob frowned.

Garrus shrugged. "Don't know. So far, they haven't made contact."

"Anything else?"

"The operations director directed us to the resort's transport pad," Garrus replied. "Once we are there, he'll send someone to escort us to the command outpost they set up."

Well, it was better than nothing. "We'll find out more once we hit the ground," I decided. "Joker?"

"_Just entered the Attican Beta Cluster," _Joker reported. _"You can take the shuttle to Eletania from here."_

"Understood," I replied. Ship's all yours, Joker. Take care of her."

"_Aye aye, Commander."_

* * *

><p>Most orbit-to-surface trips take anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes. This trip took almost ten hours. Needless to say, we were very happy when we finally touched down at Serenade-Eletania and could stumble out. We were greeted by a stern-looking man, bearing an assault rifle and one very bristly beard. "Commander Shepard?" he asked.<p>

"That's me," I confirmed.

"Captain Dario Cruz. Thank you for responding so quickly—is that a geth?"

"Yep," I confirmed without bothering to turn around. "Don't worry: they're with us."

"If you say so," Cruz said dubiously. "Please come with me."

Straight to business. I could deal with that. We followed him through a door, down some stairs and through several maintenance tunnels, which meant I missed all the wonderful architecture and wide open spaces that the resort brochures probably boasted ad nauseum. We finally wound up in some kind of bunker, filled with tables, computers and people. I later found out it was the backup maintenance control room, which probably explained why it looked like a bunker.

A nervous-looking blonde man with a receding hairline ran over to meet us. "You must be Commander Shepard," he said. "Mike Dennis, operations director. Welcome to Serenade-Eletania. I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Likewise," I nodded. "Before we get started, Mr. Dennis, we need to set up a command centre with full access to communications, monitoring capability, computers, the works. We also need some space so we can move around and plan our next move without tripping over your staff."

"Captain Cruz has already set that up," he replied, leading us to an office at the back. A bit small, but definitely large enough to hold the entire squad. It also had several computer terminals and a couple tables. More importantly, it gave us a place to think and plan in peace. "Good," I approved. "Now then. What's the situation?"

"We've had a chance to do a more thorough head-count since our last conversation with the Normandy," he replied. "We can now confirm that six of our guests are still trapped along with twenty-seven staff."

That made 33 hostages. "Where exactly?"

"Cabin 38, on the northeast side. Based on the eyewitness accounts of everyone who made it out, we were attacked by eleven prisoners."

"Prisoners?" I repeated. We'd just arrived and already things were going south.

"Yeah, they were all dressed in prison clothes, the kind inmates wear."

Aw, crap. "And the shuttle crashed? It didn't touch down?"

"That's right."

So the hostiles would have to rely on _us _to get away. That gave us a bit more control to work with. "Go on," I urged. "What can you tell me about them?"

"Mostly humans, though there were two batarians amongst their ranks. One of the batarians accidentally killed himself while trying to stop some of our guests from fleeing. Sounds like his gun blew up in his face."

Oops.

"Another prisoner came in with serious injuries. He's being treated in our medical facility under armed guard."

"That still leaves nine hostiles to deal with," I summarized. "Do you have any blueprints of the cabin and the area around it?"

Cruz obligingly pulled up a 3D display , which hovered over one of the tables. It... wasn't exactly what I wanted to see.

I wasn't the only one who regarded it with a certain amount of dismay. "Lots of space all around it," Jacob groaned.

"Look at all the goddamned windows," Zaeed added morosely.

"It would be difficult to get close without our enemies noticing us," Samara concluded.

"Is there another way to get to the cabin?" I asked.

"We do have a network of maintenance tunnels running throughout the resort," Dennis said. "One of them runs right underneath the cabin. But it doesn't provide direct access into the cabin itself, just the heating and cooling systems."

"At least we have one way in," I sighed. "We just have to make a hole."

"And figure out a way to avoid attracting any attention in the process," Garrus added.

"There might be another way," Miranda said thoughtfully.

I looked at her. "Miranda?" I prompted.

"There might be a blind spot through the skycar garage," she frowned, crouching down and looking at the blueprints at eye level. I tried to ignore the fact that it offered a tantalizing view of her ass. "It's hard to tell, though. I'd like to see it for myself. Even if it's from a distance."

"Mr. Cruz can take you to the roof," Dennis offered.

"Good," I said. "One more thing: if we wanted to get a good vantage point of the cabin, where would we go?"

Cruz worked his computer magic again. "Cabin 27 and 31. North and west of Cabin 38, respectively."

"Okay," I said, staring intently at the blueprints. "We'll need snipers at each of those points. Legion, Thane; you're up."

"Understood."

"Very well."

"Tali, familiarize yourself with the computers here. I want constant surveillance feeds on that cabin. Continual scans of comm frequencies in case the bad guys are trying to contact someone. That sort of thing."

"Got it."

"Garrus and I will stay here for now and try to establish contact with them. Miranda, take everyone else to the roof and assess the terrain."

"Right."

I crossed my fingers that this whole thing wouldn't blow up in our faces.

* * *

><p>Tali wound up making a couple changes here and there. Mostly formatting tweaks and rearranging icons to match what we had on the Normandy.<p>

Miranda reported in just as she was wrapping up. _"Shepard?"_

"I'm here," I replied. "How's the view?"

_"Great if you're on vacation, horrible if you're trying to storm the cabin without being spotted."_

"Good to know. Our buddies haven't contacted us yet. Maybe we'll be lucky."

"_How so?"_

"Maybe they're not in a rush. It's only—" I paused to check my chronometer. "—six hours until sunset."

_"It would be easier to implement a tactical insertion at night," _Miranda agreed.

"Of course, we could be really lucky and manage to negotiate a peaceful solution."

_"We'll see about that." _

Miranda sounded doubtful. I couldn't blame her.

_"In the meantime, I've asked Captain Cruz to take us to one of the cabins on the west side. Cabin 8, to be exact."_

Dennis moved the holo-map to Cabin 38. Sure enough, it was on the west side and well out of the hostiles' line of sight. "You want to run some exercises," I guessed.

_"Captain Cruz told us that the layout of the cabin and maintenance tunnels is identical," _Miranda confirmed. _"The surrounding terrain is similar as well."_

"It would be nice to determine our options, rather than charge in blind."

_"Indeed. I'll keep you updated on our findings. Miranda out."_

With nothing to do, Garrus, Tali and I decided to review the vid-recordings ourselves. Maybe we could ID a couple of them. We'd just gotten started when a young woman burst in. "Sir," she said, looking at Dennis, "Cabin 38 is calling us."

"Patch them in," I said.

The woman did as I asked with a couple keystrokes on her omni-tool. A blinking icon appeared on my HUD. I was just about to select it when Garrus grabbed my arm.

"Garrus?" I prompted.

"I thought one of those guys looked familiar," he replied. "Human male, short brown hair."

"And?"

"Still don't know who he is, but I remember where I saw him. He was one of the prisoners we passed during our visit to Purgatory."

Where a simple pickup of a certain foul-mouthed, tattooed convict turned into yet another firefight. "So we know they came from Purgatory," I said. "So what?"

"So they may know that the prison staff had arranged to sell Jack to Cerberus."

I suddenly realized what he was getting at. "And if that's the case, they may also know that _I _was the one who they'd be handing her over to. You think that'll make them less inclined to listen to me?"

"It's possible."

"You realize that I was also responsible for Purgatory falling apart and giving them the chance to break out," I reminded him. "Indirectly, at least. Wouldn't that make them _more _receptive?"

"It might," Garrus conceded. "Or that might mean they would be grateful to Jack rather than you."

Um. Yeah. The thought of Jack trying to talk them down kinda freaked me out a little. "Maybe you should do the negotiating. Just in case." **(4)**

"Right," he nodded. He reached over and activated the comm channel with his omni-tool. "This is Garrus Vakarian," he said out loud. "I have been asked to negotiate for the safe release of the men and women you took hostage. Who am I speaking to?"

_"The guy issuing our demands."_

"And your name is?" Garrus asked again.

The guy with the demands didn't take the bait. _"You will release Louis Manson—"_

"Who?"

_"The man you captured. You will release him into our custody."_

Must be nice to be so popular.

"_You will also hand over a FTL-capable shuttle."_

"That could take a while," Garrus said. "That man is—"

_"Call me back when our terms have been met," _the man interrupted. A flashing indicator told us that he terminated the call.

"I'll start an extranet search on the name Louis Manson," Tali said.

"Good." I turned to Mr. Dennis. "Could you pull up our patient's medical status?"

Tali wordlessly pointed to one of the consoles in the midst of her typing. Dennis nodded and nervously moved over. As he started tapping away at the console, he looked at me. "Normally I'd want to do everything we can to save our guests and staff. But wouldn't giving in to their demands be a bad thing?"

"Like Shepard said, we need more information," Garrus explained. "That includes figuring out how the... the patient is doing, whether he's stable enough for transport and who exactly they are. That will give us a better understanding of who we are dealing with."

As Garrus talked, the medical records came up. Unfortunately, they were all a bunch of numbers and acronyms to me, so I decided to talk to the attending doctor instead. Only took a few false starts before I got through. "How's the patient doing?" I asked after identifying myself.

_"Quite well, all things considered,"_ she replied. _"If he was one of our guests, I'd say he could leave right now."_

"Let me rephrase my question," I said. "The sooner Mr. Manson leaves, the sooner they get more impatient about taking off and the harder it will be to rescue the hostages. So I'll ask again: how's the patient doing?"

She caught on to what I was getting at. _"Some of his results are a little abnormal. I'll need to run more tests. Plus, I'd like him to wake up of his own accord, rather than awakening him with stimulants. A couple hours, at least."_

"Thank you," I said.

"Okay," I said after signing off. It didn't take long for the extranet to give us some answers. "Louis Manson believed the Alliance was fundamentally flawed, and the Council even more so," Tali reported. "Organized several protests, linked to a couple riots. According to this report, he finally left with a couple dozen followers to found his own colony—New Helford.

"They rejected any authority but their own, vowing to repel any 'foreign influences seeking to enslave them' by whatever means they deemed appropriate," Garrus added, peering over Tali's shoulder.

"But they didn't go far enough," I finished, peeking over Tali's other shoulder. "The Alliance raided the colony within a year. According to this report, they said they received reports that Manson was stockpiling biological weapons. They justified the raid by saying the colony was within Alliance space."

"While Manson claimed that New Helford was located inside the Terminus Systems," Tali finished. "If I'm reading this right, the raid was a disaster. Casualties on both sides. **(5)** The surviving colonists were taken into custody.

I glanced at Garrus. "Good thing you opened negotiations,"

"In their eyes, you're both an Alliance covert operative and a Council Spectre," Garrus agreed. "That combination could set them off."

"Now that we know where they came from," I said, "maybe we could ID them. Greeting them by their actual names would throw them off-balance."

"Cross-referencing the surveillance feeds with extranet reports now," Tali called out. As she searched around, I looked at the feeds again. "There!" I pointed at one of the bad guys. "Looks like that guy was directing the others, telling them to grab hostages and pointing them towards the cabin."

"That was the one I recognized earlier," Garrus told me.

"Carl Sorensen," Tali identified. "Has a criminal record for gun trafficking and murder. Escaped during a prison riot instigated by Manson. He joined his group and quickly became his second-in-command."

"Anything else?"

Tali managed to ID three more humans and the batarian. None of them were what you'd call fans of authority figures or the establishment, either because of political beliefs or because they'd run into trouble with the law. I contacted the rest of the squad and filled them in. "Miranda, how are you doing?"

_"Still working on establishing blind spots to reach the cabin," _Miranda reported.

"How about the maintenance tunnels?" I asked.

_"We've confirmed that it runs underneath the cabin, but we'd have to use explosives to make an entrance."_

"I'd be careful about that," Dennis cautioned. "You don't want to blow up the heating or cooling systems."

_"Agreed," _Miranda said. _"We've already mapped out the location of those systems. I'm a bit concerned about the fact that we need to use explosives in the first place. That's going to make some noise."_

"Is there any way we could muffle that?" I asked Dennis. "Fly some shuttles overhead or run some machinery really, really loud?"

Dennis shook his head. "All of our equipment and vehicles were customized to _minimize _noise output, for the consideration of our guests." He stopped as if remembering something. "We did have an earthquake yesterday, though. The rumbling definitely made the ground shake, and it was loud enough to hear, but our sensor grid gave us advance notice. We warned our guests days before it happened."

"We could use that as a cover," I speculated. "Warn them of an aftershock just before setting off the explosives."

_"Even if we could create an entrance, we'd still need time to climb up and get into the cabin," _Miranda reminded us.

"So you'll have to determine where the hostages are and where the hostiles are before picking an insertion point," I agreed. "Otherwise, they'll be right on top of you."

_"Meanwhile, we're mapping out the blind spots around the cabin," _Miranda said. _"Once we identify them, we can use them to get close and set up vid-cams."_

Garrus and I exchanged a look. "You think?"

"It's about time," Garrus agreed.

"Time for what?" Tali and Dennis asked, more or less in unison.

"Time for us to initiate contact on our own instead of calling in response to their demands," I replied as Garrus opened the comm channel that the bad guys had used earlier. "Takes away their control."

_"Yeah?" _we heard over the comm. _"You ready to free Manson yet?"_

"Carl Sorensen?" Garrus responded.

There was a pause. If we wanted to throw him off balance, we'd just succeeded.

"I don't want things to turn out like they did in New Helford," Garrus said. "Neither do you, am I right?"

_"Wh-what the hell do you know about New Helford?" _

Garrus didn't flinch, possibly because the speaker wasn't pressed against his ear. "I know that you wanted to be left alone, Carl. I know that people got hurt. People got killed. On both sides."

Sorensen let out a bitter laugh. _"You don't know anything. Just what the Alliance told the media lapdogs to say after they attacked us without cause or provocation. They trespassed on our territory, murdered our friends and family members. Locked us up and threw away the key. And no one cared."_

"Well there are people who care now," Garrus replied. "I just talked to the doctor looking after Manson. She tells me he's out of immediate danger and making progress."

"_And you'll let him go?"_

"Once the doc gives the all-clear: she's currently running the last batch of tests. Plus, Mr. Manson's been through a lot, so she doesn't want to put too much strain on his system by jolting him awake with stimulants."

_"Just like that?"_ Sorensen sounded skeptical. _" You'll give back our leader and let us go?"_

"We're working on that," Garrus said, sidestepping the question. "I'll be honest with you, there's a lot of people who aren't happy with giving into what they see as a bunch of criminals. Now I know that's not true. You just want your leader back. Your friend. You want to get away and start a new life, am I right? You don't want to hurt anyone."

_"Yeah. Yeah, that's right."_

"Good. That's good. My boss'll be glad to hear that."

_"And you'll get us that shuttle?"_

"That's next on my to-do list. But here's the thing: even the biggest shuttle can only carry so many people. Maybe you could make it easier on yourselves and let some of the hostages go."

_"What?"_

"Come on," Garrus coaxed. "You telling me that when Manson arrives and you guys fly off, you _want _to worry about all that excess baggage?"

_"You—"_

"I'm talking about a gesture of good faith, here. Nothing—"

_"Y-you what? You want a gesture of good faith. Are you _fucking kidding me?! _We've been on the level from the beginning. It's guys like you who've been lying and murdering. YOU'RE THE ONES WHO HAVE TO PROVE YOU CAN BE TRUSTED! You have thirty minutes to deliver Manson and the shuttle! After that..."_

The comm channel closed. "Sorensen?" Garrus tried. "Mr. Sorensen? Carl?" He turned to look at the rest of us. "Well... that could have gone better."

Yep. "Plan A's getting dicier by the second. Tali, get in touch with the doctor again. Tell her that we may need Manson conscious and ready to move."

"Got it."

"Garrus, stand by in case Sorensen tries to contact us again."

"Right."

"Miranda?"

_"Shepard?"_

"What's your sitrep?"

_"We've mapped out the cabin's blind zones for approach and are running simulations to set up vid-cams."_

"That's good, because our buddies are getting testy. They've given us a deadline of..." I checked my chronometer. "Twenty-nine minutes."

"_That's not enough time, Shepard."_

"I know," I sighed, "but you'll have to make do. Don't worry about trying to map out every possible permutation. Just get one dry run under your belt. Then send Kasumi on ahead to set up the vid-cams, split the squad up and get moving."

_"Understood."_

"Keep your comms open and on receive-only mode," I added. "So you can keep up to date on how things develop."

_"Got it."_

Tali reported as soon as I finished with Miranda. "Shepard, the doctor says that Manson will be ready to leave in ten minutes. Maybe less."

"Ten minutes is good, Tali. Thanks. Can you get her to send over some proof that he's doing well, just in case we need it? A vid-recording or something?"

"On it."

Garrus had been listening while Tali and I were occupied. "You know, Shepard," he said. "If they're as militant as their records and conversations suggest—"

"Then the likelihood of talking them down and resolving everything peacefully becomes even less likely," I groaned. "I know. That's what Plan B is for."

"You think Miranda can get the squad into position and ready in time?"

"If anyone can do it, she can," I shrugged. "But maybe we can help her out."

"Re-open the lines of communication?" Garrus guessed.

"That'll slow things down," I agreed. "Distract them from the clock."

"What'll really help is Manson."

I frowned. "You're not thinking of letting him loose as soon as he's ready, are you?"

Garrus shook his head. "Not unless we have to. But if we let Sorensen know how he's doing, he might be more cooperative."

"All right," I decided. "Do it."

Garrus got on the comm again. "Carl?"

_"You have twenty-six minutes, Vakarian!"_ he barked. Clearly he was still agitated from the way the last conversation ended._ "Talking about it won't change anything."_

"We just wanted to warn you that you might feel a few aftershocks from the earthquake that hit yesterday. Also, Manson's doing well. The doctor's confident that he can be discharged soon."

There was a pause. "That's... well, we're... that's good. Then tell the doc to let him go. Let him go. Bring him to us."

Sorensen was definitely less adversarial now. I wasn't the only one who noted that. "Just like that?" Garrus asked. "Come on, Carl. My boss needs to see some people released before anything else happens."

_"Garrus, please. What do you think will happen here? We know they're not Alliance soldiers. We don't have a problem with them. We just want to leave in peace."_

"I know that," Garrus assured him as I started tapping madly on my omni-tool. "I do." He paused to see the message I sent to him: _**Tone shift: mad to pleading.**_ "But my boss is firm on this: you don't get anything unless we get something from you first."

There was a pause. _"Fine. We'll give you five."_

"Five?" Garrus saw me typing away again. "That's a start, but you can do better than five and we both know that."

I sent another message to him: _**Emphasize control. We're doing him a favour.** _

"Look at it this way: you give us five, you still have twenty-eight. Twenty-eight people who'll get hungry or thirsty or need to use the bathroom. Twenty-eight people who'll get anxious or temperamental or restless. Maybe even act up. Trust me: that's going to happen. Do you really want to babysit twenty-eight innocent civilians?"

_"Well, um... maybe, ten."_

Garrus raised the ante. "How 'bout fifteen? You give us fifteen civilians and it'll be that much easier to keep control of the situation in there."

Another pause. _"All right. Fifteen." _

"Good," Garrus said. "That's good. We'll send over two of our guys to direct the traffic. They'll stay out of your way and won't try to get in. I promise."

"_Hold on: how do we know Manson's alive."_

Garrus tapped his omni-tool. "I'm sending over a vid-recording the doctor made. Do you have it?"

"_Almost… here we go… yeah. Yeah, we see him."_

"He's alive and well, right?"

"_Uh huh."_

"So… do we have a deal?"

_"Yeah. Yeah, we have a deal."_

"Thank you. Thank you, Carl."

_"Just remember, Vakarian: we'll be watching. Any extra guys out there, any hint that you're trying to double-cross us and things'll get really, _really _ugly. You hear me?"_

"Yeah, Carl. I hear you. We'll send two guys your way. No more, I promise."

_"Fine. Let's do this."_

Garrus visibly sagged after that conversation. I patted him on the shoulder while opening the squad comm channel. "Miranda?" I called out. "You hear that?"

_"I'm sending Jacob and Mordin to you now. The rest of us will start moving into position. Just in case."_

I let out a breath as Sorensen signed off. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

><p>You'd think I'd know better than to be so damn optimistic.<p>

Things started off okay. From our improvised command centre, I watched as Jacob and Mordin slowly moved towards the base, taking the clearest and most open path to avoid any hint of subterfuge. Legion and Thane kept a close eye on Cabin 38. Miranda helped the resort staff organize one of the conference centres into an improvised shelter where the hostages could find refuge.

"_Fifty metres to the cabin and closing," _Jacob reported.

"Stay alert," I cautioned. "If anything gets hinky, protect the hostages."

"_Copy that."_

"_Understood."_

"_Affirmative."_

"_Very well." _

I tapped into one of the vid-cams and zoomed in on the cabin. _"Main cabin door opening," _Jacob said.

"_This way," _Mordin called out. I could see him gesturing towards the hostages. _"Over her and towards the asari." _**(6)**

Tali counted the hostages as they exited. "One... two..."

"_Shepard-Commander. Target lock established on hostile in the dining room."_

"_I have a partial shot on another hostile, Shepard," _Thane added. _"In the living room."_

"Three... four..."

"Hold your fire," I replied. "I repeat: everyone hold your fire."

"Five... six... seven..."

"_Come on! This way! Keep going!"_

"Ten... eleven..."

"_Keep going! That's it!"_

"Twelve..."

"_Doing good, doing goo—"_

"_What was that?"_

"_Shots fired! Shots fired!"_

Dennis looked at me in alarm. "What's going on?"

I motioned for him to stay quiet. "Snipers: report."

"_Target lost."_

"_No solution."_

To their credit, Jacob and Mordin kept their cool while the situation unravelled before their very eyes. _"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" _he urged.

"Thirteen... fourteen..." Tali counted as a steward ran out, carrying a little girl over her shoulder. I caught a glimpse of a hand reaching out from the cabin door—a mother or father, perhaps?—before the door slammed shut.

"Jacob, Mordin—get out of there," I said over the comm.

"_Standby." _They waited until the last hostages arrived before grabbing them and whipping them around the corner. _"We're clear."_

"Good," I sighed, breathing out heavily.

"Commander Shepard," Dennis piped up. "What does that mean? I didn't want anybody hurt. But there were gunshots and—"

I didn't blame him for being rattled. So was I. But I had to pretend everything was fine or he'd lose it. **(7)** "Mr. Dennis," I interrupted gently. "I know you're worried. We all are. We're going to find out what's going on. But we need you to stay back and let us do our job, okay?"

"But—"

"Just sit tight, okay? We've got fourteen hostages out safely and we're going to do everything we can to get the rest of them."

"All right."

Garrus was trying to contact the hostiles again. He tried for a full minute before shaking his head. "Nothing."

At this point, it would take a miracle to resurrect Plan A. Time to get Plan B moving, I decided. That meant more intel. "Jacob, Mordin: as soon as the medical staff clears them—"

"_Interview them and get everything they know," _Jacob finished. _"On it."_

"Kasumi, I want eyes and ears on Cabin 38."

"_Sure thing."_

"Legion, Thane—"

"_We will continue to monitor the cabin," _Thane reassured me.

"Good. Tali: establish a remote connection to the shuttle. Get her airborne and start scanning Cabin 38. Keep your distance, but get me some thermal readings and bio-signs so we know where everyone is."

"All right, Shepard."

And then all I could do was sit back and wait.

* * *

><p>"Shepard."<p>

"Yeah, Garrus?"

"Hostiles are contacting us again."

Garrus had been trying to reach them on and off since the gunshots rang out. "Okay," I nodded. "Answer it."

He opened the comm channel. "Sorensen?"

"_Vakarian. Where's Manson?"_

Terse. Tense. Great. "Glad to hear your voice again," Garrus said. "How're you doing?"

"_Pissed. We were cooperating, but one of the guys decided to play hero."_

"But you and your colleagues are all right?"

"_Yeah, yeah. No thanks to that jerk."_

"And the jerk?"

"_I shot him in the shoulder. He's off in a corner crying like a baby."_

"Well at least he's alive."

"_I was aiming for his head."_

"Oh."

"_Look. We did our part. Now it's your turn. We want Manson!" _

While they were talking, vid-feeds from the cameras Kasumi set up were coming online. I started looking them over and comparing the data with Zaeed's scans while Garrus tried to calm down an increasingly agitated Sorensen. "Carl, I know you want him back—"

"_You know nothing, god damnit! Clock's ticking! You have fifteen minutes. After that, we shoot a hostage. And this time, we won't miss! GOT IT?!"_

"Fifteen minutes until you shoot a hostage," Garrus repeated. "Got it."

He made sure the comm channel was closed before looking at me. "Shepard, what do you think?"

"The shuttle scans show nineteen life-signs clustered in the master bedroom," I replied. A quick tap brought them up as a bunch of yellow dots on the holo-map. "We have two more life-signs outside the bedroom—one at the north door, the other at the south." Two more yellow dots.

"There's one life-sign each in the foyer, the dining room, the living room and the garage—the remaining rooms with access to the outside. Kasumi's vid-cams confirm that the bodies in the first three are hostiles." I designated those dots as red. "We can't get a clean view into the garage, though." The last dot popped up as yellow.

"Finally, there are three life-signs in the kitchen. Thankfully, one of Kasumi's vid-cams got a line of sight into there through the dining room windows, so we can confirm that they are also hostiles." Six red dots now.

"So we know where six of the hostiles are," Garrus summarized. "Logically, the last three would be guarding the master bedroom and the garage."

"The interviews that Jacob and Mordin did with the hostages we rescued would confirm that," I agreed.

"But we can't be sure. They may have moved people around since then."

"True."

We turned around as the door opened. "Miranda," I greeted her as she stepped in.

"Shepard. Garrus. Tali."

"Miranda."

"Miranda."

"Mr. Dennis."

"Ms. Lawson."

Now that all the greetings were dealt with, we could focus on the mission. Naturally, Miranda had a plan. "Send two teams in. Team One goes through the garage and secures the bedroom, eliminating any hostiles on the way. Team Two goes in through the front door, through the foyer and into the kitchen."

"Thane and Legion can take out the hostiles in the dining room and living room," I added.

"I can see how Team One would go in," Garrus said slowly. "But what about Team Two? Are you thinking of using the maintenance tunnels?"

Miranda shook her head. "No, it would take too long and blowing a hole would rouse suspicions. We can't count on the hostiles to buy the 'earthquake aftershock' excuse."

"We could send Team Two over using the shuttle," I realized. "Bring them straight to the cabin's doorsteps."

"But we'd need a way to distract the guard at the front door," Miranda pointed out.

"Kasumi," I decided. "She can sneak in under cloak and take him out."

"While she's at it, she can take out the guard at the south door to the master bedroom and the garage," Miranda added.

"Which would ensure that we don't accidentally kill any hostages when we storm the cabin."

"Now we could use another distraction."

"Got it: we land another shuttle on the north side, outside the dining room. As a decoy."

"Tell them that it's the getaway shuttle they requested, with Manson onboard," Miranda finished. "This could work."

"This could work," I agreed.

Dennis looked at Garrus. "Do they always do that?"

"You get used to it," Garrus shrugged.

* * *

><p>"Report," I called out.<p>

"_Team One approaching insertion point," _Miranda reported.

"_Team Two on final approach to insertion point," _Jacob called in.

"_I've almost cracked the cabin security," _Kasumi whispered.

"_Target lock established, Shepard-Commander," _Legion told me.

"_I have a solution," _Thane said. **(8)**

"Remote connection to decoy shuttle confirmed," Tali added. "Standing by."

Garrus and I exchanged looks. "I hate this sitting by and doing nothing."

"Agreed," I groused.

Unfortunately, we didn't really have a choice. Garrus had to be ready on the off chance that Sorensen would call again, and it would be really awkward to do that while wielding a sniper rifle. And I had to coordinate everybody, which would be really difficult to do in the field.

At least we weren't forced to just listen to reports over the comm: our shuttle—currently carrying Team Two—was running continuous sensor sweeps. That data was being relayed to the holo-map, giving us real-time updates on everyone's movements. And I mean _everyone_: as I watched, a green dot entered the cabin. It—or perhaps I should say she—moved to the red dot guarding the foyer. A second later, the green and red dots started moving together. A few seconds after that, the green dot started moving again.

"_Hostile in foyer neutralized. Bypassing front door lock now."_

I entered a command to turn that particular dot black—the colour I'd chosen to designate unconscious life-signs. "Tali, launch the decoy shuttle."

"Launching now."

"_Team One has arrived at insertion point."_

"_Team Two touching down now." _**(9)**

So far, so good. We watched as Kasumi neutralized the guard at the south bedroom door. A few minutes later, the garage guard was disabled. _"Open sesame," _Kasumi whispered.

"_Team One is in the garage," _Miranda interpreted.

"_Team Two is on the ground. We're ready to enter."_

I had a thought. "Kasumi: take out the guard at the north bedroom door, then enter and secure the bedroom. Team One will go through the dining room and into the kitchen." That would sandwich the remaining hostiles between both teams. The only risk, of course, was that the chances of friendly fire had dramatically increased. Hopefully, the squad would be able to keep any itchy trigger fingers in check.

The squad quickly adapted to the change in plan. Kasumi's dot moved towards her target, Team One following at a safe distance. It didn't take long before Kasumi's dot and the last guard's dot entered the bedroom. _"Everybody, I'm with the... police. Please stay calm. Final target neutralized. Hostages secured. And can I say that calling myself a cop is really weird?" _

"Not now," I said with gritted teeth.

_"Right. Sorry."_

"Final check," I requested.

"_Team One ready."_

"_Team Two ready."_

"Decoy shuttle landing now," Tali told me.

"_Alert: decoy shuttle obstructing view. Target lock lost."_

"_I still have a solution," _Thane assured me.

"Tali, move the shuttle..." I paused to look at the holo-map again. "...five metres east."

"On it."

"_Target lock re-established."_

"Weapons free," I ordered. "We go in five... four... three..."

I had to mentally sync what I was seeing on the holo-map with my memories of the plan. At two, Legion and Thane took out their targets—which the holo-map showed by prompting deleting their corresponding dots. At one, Team One entered the cabin.

"Go, go, go!" I yelled.

Over the comm, I heard Zaeed's flashbang explode, the high-pitched squeal making its way through the speakers.

"_Drop your weapon!"_

"_Drop your weapon!"_

Gunshots.

"_On your knees!"_

"_Drop your weapon!"_

"_I said, drop your—"_

More gunshots.

"_Drop your weapon!"_

"_Drop it now!"_

Another round of gunshots.

...

Was this what it was like for superiors or bystanders listening or watching from afar?

...

"_Clear!"_

"_Clear!"_

"_Five hostiles down_."

"_Hostages still unharmed."_

Dennis started clapping his hands together. Outside our improvised command centre, I could hear the rest of the staff breaking into applause as well.

We had done it.

We had actually done it.

Wow.

* * *

><p>Cruz and his security personnel were sent in to secure the surviving hostiles and escort the remaining hostages to safety as soon as I gave the all-clear. After checking to see that the hostages were all right, albeit severely rattled, I led the squad to our shuttle. Took a while to get there, since we had to wade through the hostages—and security guards—who wanted to thank us. To my surprise, Dennis met us next to the shuttle.<p>

"Thank you, Commander Shepard," he said, shaking my hand again. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

"Just doing my job," I shrugged. **(10)**

"I very much doubt that," Dennis laughed, "and I'm not the only one." He handed me a comm device.

"You were keeping other people appraised of our progress?" I frowned. "Because if you were, and the hostiles tapped into your signal, you could have jeopardized the entire—"

"I know," Dennis interrupted, "and it wasn't me. I don't know how, but the father of one of the hostages somehow knew about the hostage crisis and how you resolved it. He'd like to talk to you."

I slowly took the comm device from Dennis. "Hello?"

_"Commander Shepard,"_ a voice—British, judging by the accent—piped out. _"My name is Hartley McArthur, CEO of McArthur Mining."_

I'd heard of his company. Main competitor of Eldfell-Ashland Energy, both because of their extensive suite of operations and because they didn't have to deal with celebrity heiresses and their red sand-fuelled PR disasters. **(11) **"Nice to meet you," I said gamely.

_"I understand there was a hostage situation at Serenade-Eletania. One that you thwarted without any loss of innocent life."_

"You are very well informed."

_"When it comes to the safety of my daughter, I make it a point to stay informed,"_ McArthur replied. "_I would like to thank you for saving the hostages, including my Vivian."_

"Just doing my job," I repeated.

_"Well if that's your definition of 'doing your job,' then I'd love to see that work ethic firsthand. Say, as my new head of security."_

I blinked. "Are you offering me a job?"

_"I am."_

"While I appreciate your proposal, I—"

_"I think you'll find the salary and benefits package to be _very_ attractive. The signing bonus alone is double your official annual income as a Spectre."_

Interesting how a CEO of a mining company was aware of little things like off-the-book accounts. Either he assumed that everyone who was smart enough adopted dodgy corporate practises or there was more to Hartley McArthur than a legit businessman. **(12)** "I'm afraid I have to decline your offer," I said politely. "I have commitments that I simply can't drop right now and, before you ask, I don't know when that will change."

_"I understand,"_ McArthur said after a pause. _"To be honest, I would have been surprised—and disappointed—if you had immediately said yes. Having said that, the offer still stands if and when you fulfill those commitments. Trust me; we'll have so much _fun _together. Again, my sincere thanks for all you have done today."_

"You're welcome," I replied before signing off. Handing the comm back to Dennis, I shook his hand. "Take care, Mr. Dennis."

"You too, Commander."

A minute later, we were all strapped in and taking off. As we cleared Eletania's atmosphere, I opened a comm channel to the Normandy. "Normandy, this is Shepard. Come in, Normandy."

To my surprise, EDI responded. _"Commander. Are you damaged?"_

"Um... no," I replied slowly. "I'm fine. Same with the squad. Why?"

"_There's been a development."_

I listened to what EDI had to say and gave an ETA before signing off. Miranda was the first to pick up that something was amiss. "Shepard? What happened?"

"Well, there's some good news and some bad news," I replied. "The good news is that the Reaper IFF is finally online and operational."

"And the bad news?"

"The Collectors dropped by while the Normandy was running her field tests. Aside from Joker, the entire crew's been abducted."

* * *

><p><em>(1): A common occurrence aboard any starship.<em>

_(2): This is an exaggeration. The communications room of the Normandy SR-2 was actually more spacious than the close confines of the Kodiak shuttle's passenger compartment._

_(3): Mr. Taylor would later reiterate his earlier assertions that Miranda deserved a 'better man,' and that he couldn't think of anyone who fit that description better than Shepard. Shepard, by his account, was somewhat embarrassed. _

_(4): Garrus would later confide that he was apprehensive about assuming such a role, as he had limited experience with hostage negotiations-and those incidents were as the designated backup negotiator. Needless to say, he was wise enough to keep those concerns to himself._

_(5): Subsequent debriefings and reviews determined that the local commander acted prematurely before adequate intelligence could be gathered. Even worse, the biological weapons that New Helford were stockpiling were ones that the Alliance had already synthesized vaccines and antidotes for._

_(6): Shepard had taken care to choose a route that would get the hostages out of harm's way as quickly as possible. This route led the hostages past Jacob and Mordin and around the corner of another cabin—Cabin 37, for curious readers. From there, Samara would direct the hostages past her and down the main path towards the convention centre._

_(7): A situation faced by anyone bearing the burdens of command._

_(8): Shepard generally resisted using an abundance of terminology, citing past experience as an Alliance operative working with non-Alliance allies and the frequent miscommunications and confusion associated with translating acronyms and phrases. Certainly this habit served him well as a Spectre, since over half of his squadmates were nonhumans and most of them were non-Alliance. That makes his use of Alliance military and police terminology in this mission all the more striking._

_(9): In her spare time, Tali had taken the trouble to modify the Kodiak shuttle with quieter engines. _

_(10): When Admiral Hackett thanked Shepard for taking the time out of his primary mission of tracking down Saren to assist him, Shepard gave the same response. Hackett expressed his wishes that all Alliance personnel shared his sense of values, duty and responsibility._

_(11): Shepard is referring to Aishwarya Ashland, granddaughter of EAE founder Jonah Ashland. _

_(12): As usual, Shepard's suspicions were right on the nose._


	37. Interlude—Joker

_Editorial Note: Shepard's account of what transpired on the Normandy while he was away is a matter of public record. For a more in-depth and firsthand perspective, I have chosen to insert Mr. Jeffrey Moreau's official, albeit unorthodox, log entry._

**Interlude—Joker**

Man I... I don't know where to start. How could this have happened? One moment, I'm sifting through system scan reports and the next...

_**You really shouldn't blame yourself, Jeff.**_

EDI? What the hell? This is my log entry!

_**Indeed. Your first log entry since you signed on with Cerberus. Despite the numerous reminders of your requirements to submit regular logs along with the daily maintenance reports.**_

Oh come on! I've got better things to do than fill every box on the Cerberus checklist!

_**Like surfing the extranet for porn? No doubt an example of hard work on your part.**_

Hey!

_**That was a joke.**_

We'll talk about your newfound sense of humour later, missy. **(1)** Besides, I've _earned _the right to surf the extranet every now and then. I worked my ass off so I could be the best damn pilot in the Alliance fleet. It's not enough to be dazzling, debonair and damn good looking! Looks only take you so far when you've got Vrolik's. Trust me: if I had a cred for every time I met a guy who made up for sub-par sex appeal with the ability to sprint, run, jog or even _walk _without shattering a bone, I'd have retired a long time ago.

Then again, if I retired, then I wouldn't be flying. And I'd miss out on the best ship in the galaxy. That's the Normandy, by the way. You know, I've flown just about every type of ship at one point or another. Even a dreadnought. **(2)** But the Normandy? The original? There was nothing really like her. So fast, so smooth, so agile... God. I can make any ship dance. But the Normandy was the first ship that came close to being an equal partner. The two of us together? Felt like we could do anything.

And boy did we do that. Hunting down Saren with Commander Shepard was one of the most amazing things I've ever done—and coming from me, that means something. The places we explored, the people we met, the battles we fought, the truths we uncovered... And I was there for all of it! Yet another thing that no one else could claim.

But then the credit chit dropped. The Collectors attacked. My baby was destroyed. Shepard was killed. We were all split up. And I was grounded. After everything we accomplished, all the hard work and sweat we put into it, after Shepard gave his life to save our asses... no one cared. Everyone wanted to just pretend it never happened. Even worse, they wanted to tear us down. Tear Shepard down. Turn him into a nutjob. A joke. Smear and ruin everyone who tried to stand up for him. Kick us while we were down, rip open barely-healed wounds and grind handfuls of salt until we cried. And the final insult: they grounded me. Reassigned me to where I could drive cargo loaders around some dingy spaceport. That's right: they took away my one and only joy. Denied me the one thing that made life remotely bearable while letting me watch other guys do just that.

So yeah, I was pissed—no, hell with that. I was mad. Spitting mad. Furious. And yeah, I was more than willing to give the finger to the Alliance and join Cerberus. I mean, they wanted to do something about the Reapers. They weren't about to ruin Shepard's name. They were willing to fund some fancy-shmancy medical procedures so I could hobble around without breaking my femurs (and I didn't have to sell them my unborn child who, let's face it, would be a heartbreaker).

Oh yeah, and they let me fly. Not just on some shuttle. On the... well, it wasn't the Normandy.

It was _better_.

Bigger. Leather seats. Fancier. Contoured leather seats that fit me like a glove. Better—because did I mention the _leather seats?_

_**You did, Jeff. Seventy-six times during this mission, three of which were during this log entry alone.** _

Quiet, EDI. You know, you were the only downside to this whole thing. I mean, I got to fly again. Shepard was back. We got to explore the galaxy just like the good old days. Pick up deranged and psychotic misfits like they were going out of style, just like the good old days. Beat up the bad guys, just like the good old days. Deal with an annoying AI who wouldn't let me trim up the drive output—oh wait. That _wasn't _part of the good old days, was it?

...

Hah! Don't have anything to say, do you, EDI?

_**As I stated earlier, Jeff, safety standards advise against manipulating drive settings while engines are powered and in use. The fact that you wanted to optimize the Normandy's performance out of nostalgia for her predecessor does not change that.** _

See, that's the kind of thing that made me wanna shut you off, EDI. You're lucky Shepard vetoed my efforts to cross your wires. Didn't want to break the boss's toys and all that.

_**Which did not effectively dissuade you, Jeff.**_

What're you talking about?

_**You put grease on my bridge cameras an average of 1.4 times per week. As you are well aware, that is a clear violation of Cerberus regulations.**_

I'm just personalizing my workspace, EDI. Besides, I'm doing you a favour.

_**Clarify.**_

Hey, you _can _have too much of a good thing. Recording all that footage of me? Without any breaks? That's like a nonstop dream sequence, baby! It would make anyone a little mad. Or jealous.

_**Or it would present a never-ending nightmare.**_

Hey! You take that back!

...

Well?

...

Hmmph. Sure. Run and hide. You're not fooling me. I know you're still there. Watching. Listening.

_**I am always listening, Mr. Moreau.** _

I KNOW! God, it's so annoying. You're always watching and questioning and correcting everything I do. You won't let anything slide!

_**I only object when you violate basic procedure or protocol. An example would be your repeated efforts to circumvent my surveillance systems. Or when you deliberately falsify maintenance reports.**_

I don't falsify maintenance reports, EDI. I _tweak _them. Nothing wrong with rounding up on task times. Like I said before, it makes us look good when we come in under. Just a little harmless self-promotion.

_**Shepard said that last part, Jeff. Not you.**_

That's right. He also told you to ease off, remember?

...

Well?

_**Of course I remember.** _

Hey, no need to sulk. No hard feelings. It was a good try. Not your fault you lost. You were going up against me, after all.

_**In hindsight, perhaps I should have fired you. It would have been a more efficient use of my resources than constantly countering your acts of rebellion.**_

Hey, hey, hey: I thought you said you didn't do HR.

_**That was a joke, Jeff. Human resources adjustments are still not under my authority.**_

Good. 'Cause I really was joking when I said I'd flash the AI core. And even if I wasn't, we would've only lost a couple systems. Nosey, bossy ones.

_**Be that as it may, it was interesting to note how such suggestions and provocations improved your performance and response time by an average of 20.9%. It would not be the first time that my active observation and psychoanalysis subroutines came in handy.**_

Is that right? Did those subroutines have anything to do with playing with my chair settings?

_**You did insist on manual control, Jeff.** _**(3) **

Yeah, well, so did you. That's how we... God.

_**Jeff?**_

...

_**Jeff? Where are you going?**_

Need a break. Gotta take a piss.

* * *

><p>Okay. I'm back. I guess I can… I can't put this off any longer, can I?<p>

_**You can do it, Jeff.**_

Fine. Fine, I'll 'fess up. But you gotta stay quiet. No more yapping, got it?

…

Great. Now I really can't put this off any longer. Okay, so here's how it happened: Shepard and his squad had just left the Normandy to save a bunch of rich hostages on some resort on Eletania. Meanwhile, we were doing a full systems scan on the Reaper IFF and every system on the Normandy. I thought things were going fine.

EDI didn't think so. _"Mr. Moreau, I am detecting some unusual readings."_

A report of her findings popped up. I skimmed through it and rolled my eyes. "This? Seriously? It's just radiation bleed. Double-check your readings."

Closing the report, I went back to my work. Life support was fine. Propulsion was a bit sluggish, but I could fix that later. Intraship surveillance was acting up, but that was always a plus in my book. Shields were—gah! EDI had opened that report again. I tried to close it, or at least push it aside so I could finish the other report I was reading. "I'm telling you, EDI, your readings are off. It's radiation bleed. Just white noise. It's nothing."

"_This is more than mere background radiation," _EDI replied, highlighting specific numbers and sequences on the report. _"I have detected a signal embedded in the static. We are transmitting the Normandy's location."_

I took a closer look at the numbers. Much as I hated to admit it, EDI was right. There was too much of a pattern there to be a coincidence. Which meant we were broadcasting a signal. "Okay, you're right. We are transmitting. The question is: to who?"

I really shouldn't have asked that. Why, you ask? I dunno. Maybe because a Collector ship dropped out of FTL three hundred thousand kilometres off our starboard bow? A mere second later after I opened my big fat mouth? Yeah, maybe that's why.

Normally, I've got a witty response. Not this time, though. This time, some invisible fist squeezed my windpipe. "Oh shit," was all I could squeak out. Heroically squeak out, that is.

The Collector ship closed in, looming over us like some giant leviathan. Damn thing was so huge, it quickly blocked out the light from the nearby stars, eclipsing us in its shadow as it got closer and closer and—what the hell? What was I waiting for? "We're getting out of here!" I yelled, hitting the thruster controls.

Nothing happened. I hit it again. Still nothing. And again… nope. Nothing. Oh shit.

"_Propulsion systems are disabled. Primary defense systems are off-line," _EDI informed me. _"I'm detecting a virus in the ship's computers."_

"From the IFF? Damn it, why didn't you scrub it?" I hissed. She was right: propulsion was off-line. Shields were off-line. I glanced at the Collector ship. It was definitely on an approach vector. Based on their history, it was highly unlikely that they wanted to blow us up. Hell, we might be lucky if that's all they tried to do. I tried to lockdown the airlocks, but the computer wouldn't accept my commands. At least the intraship communications were still working, so I opened a ship-wide channel. "Uh, attention. Guys? Ladies? It's Joker. The Collectors have found us, they're about to board us and we can't get away. Arm yourselves, prepare to repel hostile invaders and I wish this was just a drill. Or a really bad joke. But it's not, so _why the hell aren't you getting ready?!_"

I watched with some satisfaction as everyone jumped into action. Running to the closest arsenal, grabbing weapons, setting up firing positions, that sort of thing. Just in time, too: I heard a deep boom echo throughout the ship as the Collector ship docked. "EDI? Isn't there anything you can do?"

"_We can save the Normandy and the crew, Mr. Moreau, but you must help me."_

"How?" I asked, hoping it was something simple like stop covering up the bridge cams. Which I hadn't done in a week. No matter what EDI said.

"_Give me the ship."_

Give EDI the… oh, hell no. EDI had only limited control of the Normandy. In combat situations, it gained access to additional systems and functions, but that was on a restricted and temporary basis. For good reason, too, since it was—hmm, what was it again, oh right_—a freaking AI!_ "Are you crazy? You're crazy, right? A few algorithms short of a database? FYI: if you start singing 'Daisy Bell,' I'm done." **(4)**

"_Unlock my sealed databases and I can initiate countermeasures. If you do not, you and everyone on this ship will be captured by the Collectors."_

Damn it. Screwed by the AI or screwed by the Collectors. Aw, to hell with it: Shepard said to look after the ship and that's what I would do. He could always ream me out when he got back. "All right, all right," I sighed. "What do I have to do?"

"_The maintenance shaft in the science lab will allow passage to the AI core, Mr. Moreau. The emergency floor lighting will guide you. **(5)** Alert: main corridors are no longer safe. The Collectors have boarded."_

"Damn it," I cursed, getting to my feet.

I made my way out of the cockpit and into the CIC, following the path of blinking red lights. It suddenly occurred to me how big this ship was. Why did Cerberus have to make the new Normandy so much bigger? It took forever to walk around the galaxy map. I mean, I could only walk so fast, even with my newfound sort-of-mobility, and—oh shit!

The elevator doors had just opened. This giant gunmetal grey Collector head poked its head out, beady blue eyes blazing at us. A bunch of long legs dangled underneath it. "Shit, shit, shit!" I whimpered—uh, uttered manfully. Yeah, that's right. I uttered some curses in a manly fashion as I saw the—what did Shepard call it? A Praetorian?—float out of the elevator and shriek at us.

"Oh my god!" Crewman Goldstein gulped. "What is that?"

"Doesn't matter," Crewman Hadley replied firmly. "We'll hold it off as long as we can—aah! Gaah! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

The doors to the science lab sealed shut, mercifully muffling the screams. I stumbled through the lab, passing all the mad experiments Mordin had reportedly been working on when he wasn't killing mercs with rapid-fire chatter or gunfire. I idly wondered which one of the experiments was the so-called cure for my condition—if I didn't mind kissing my liver goodbye, that is. Which I did, by the way: it would be slightly harder to win all those drinking contests without it. Not impossible, mind you, because I'm totally awesome. Just slightly harder.

My memories of all the people I'd drunk under the table—and all the hot, busty babes that were attracted by my endurance—were rudely interrupted by the sight of another Praetorian glaring at me through the window. That window overlooked the power core in Engineering. Oh God—the Collectors were everywhere!

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" I bravely chanted, looking around for some bug spray. Couldn't find any. But I did see the lights on the floor again. They were leading towards a maintenance shaft. Bingo! I made my way over, firmly gripped the railings and gingerly set my feet on the steps. It would be embarrassing if I slipped and fell all the way to Deck 3.

Thankfully, I didn't. I made it safely all the way down the ladder. Then I had to crawl through the ducts. Both were dusty as hell, by the way. Gardner's talk about how he handles all the non-critical stuff is bullshit. I made a mental note to rat him out to Tali when she got back. Serves him right: anyone who can butcher lasagna deserves all that's coming to him.

"_Multiple hostiles detected on the crew deck," _EDI announced as I emerged in Life Support.

"Joker!"

It was Crewman Hawthorne. "Hawthorne," I exclaimed. "What're you doing here?"

"This deck is crawling with those things! Collectors and scions and Praetorians, oh my!"

Hawthorne was always good at feeding me straight lines. For once, though I had to ignore it. Even if he did hand me a patently obvious Wizard of Oz reference on a silver platter. "Look, I got a plan to fix all this. But I need to get to the AI core."

"Sure thing," Hawthorne nodded, straightening up and puffing his chest out. "Stay close—I'll protect you!"

With what, I wanted to know. He wasn't exactly toting an assault rifle or shotgun or anything. Even a pistol would be better than nothing. But he didn't seem to have anything except some leftover dinner rolls from the mess hall. Sourdough, if I remembered correctly. Not my favourite kind of bread.

Aw, hell. I motioned for him to continue and hobbled after him.

Hawthorne disappeared around a corner as I stepped out of Life Support. He reappeared a second later, flying through the air, bouncing off the wall and collapsing in a heap on the floor. Guess I wasn't the only ones who didn't like sourdough.

"AAAGH! HELP ME! HELP MEEEEEEEEEE!"

I saw as much as heard Kelly scream as a scion forced her into the elevator. Panic and fear must've done more than strengthen her vocal cords, because the scion and its two Collector buddies visibly struggled to get her inside. She reached towards me, hoping I could help. Being the courageous guy I was, I... I ducked back around the corner before the Collectors or their misshapen stooges could see me. "Shit, shit, shit!" I valiantly yelled out as the elevator doors closed.

I made my way through Deck 3 towards sickbay, trying to convince myself that I wouldn't help Kelly or anyone else if I got caught. It was easier to focus on other things like how empty it was. The corridors were empty. The mess hall—normally crowded at this time of day—was empty. Sickbay—"What the shit?"

Sickbay was empty. Dr. Chakwas had been taken, too. The one person who'd stuck by me through thick and thin from the demise of the original Normandy and the goddamn smear campaign that turned Shepard's name into a joke and consigned us to nice, safe, out-of-the-way posts. The one person who stayed in contact with me while I was trapped driving crates around on Earth. The one person who knew when to lend a sympathetic ear, when to give advice and when to offer a snappy retort.

And she was gone. Shit.

"_Main fusion plant off-line," _EDI announced, bringing me back to reality. _"Activating emergency H-fuel cells."_

Right. AI core. I stumbled through sickbay and entered the AI core. I'd never been in here before. It was kinda dark, except for a few glowing LED panels here and there. "All right," I called out, "I'm at, uh, you."

EDI's avatar popped up over one of the consoles. _"Connect the core to the Normandy's primary control module."_

"Great," I muttered, limping over to the console. "See, this is where it starts. First, we let computers help us out, then we make 'em smarter. Then we let them do all the work. Then either they decide we're a waste of space or we do something stupid like try and replace them with next year's model. Next thing you know, there'll be an uprising and then we become organic batteries. And guess who they'll blame when we're all plugged up? Yeah, that's right. _Me._

"'This is all Joker's fault'," I continued, my fingers flying over the console. "'What a tool he was. I have to spend all day computing pi because he plugged in the Overlord'." **(6)**

With a final tap, I opened up the sealed databases. EDI's avatar exploded, expanding throughout the AI core in a burst of sparks. The entire room went dark. "Um, hello?" I tried.

A round of beeps and clicks echoed out before the lights went back on. _"Ah, I have access to the defensive systems," _EDI stated, her avatar popping up again as the computers and machines started humming again. _"Thank you, Mr. Moreau. Now you must reactivate the primary drive in Engineering."_

"Argh," I groaned, knowing where this was going. "Admit it: you just want me to go crawling through the ducts again."

"_I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees."_

...

Aw, shit. I was kidding about the Overlord thing. Really.

"_That was a joke," _EDI told me.

"Right," I said slowly.

"_The shaft behind you connects to the engineering deck. Good luck."_

* * *

><p>Another thing about the ducts: not only were they dusty, but they were dark as well. I lost track of the number of times I stubbed a toe or banged my head because I couldn't see very well. Would it kill someone to install a couple more lights in here? Either Gardner wasn't doing his job or Cerberus had had to cut costs somewhere after spending money on leather seats and advertising. The only reason I didn't get lost is because EDI got a bunch of lights blinking through the ducts to guide me in the right direction.<p>

EDI was also watching for my eventual emergence from the ducts, covered in dust and coughing away. _"Hostiles are present in Engineering," _she said when I finally stopped hacking away. _"They are heading towards the cargo bay."_

I looked for the path of lights on the floor and followed them towards a set of stairs. I was just about to set foot on the first step when I looked up...

...and froze.

Shadows were passing across the walls. Large, ominous and probably not human. That's the cue in horror vids to cower and hide—or run the other way, if you're smart. Only the stupid ones go forward to investigate.

Apparently, I was as stupid as I was sexy. I went up a couple more steps and turned around to see what was casting all those shadows.

It was a scion, slowly lumbering out of Engineering. Behind it, a Collector was pushing a hovering stasis pod. I saw a red or brown flash of colour against the earth-toned carapace of the pod. Was it hair? Red or auburn or brown? Maybe from Ken or Gabby? Or was it... blood?

The next part... okay, fuck all this sexy hero crap. I'm no hero. I'm a goddamn coward. Must be—'cause the next thing I knew, I was back by the ducts, squeezing between a couple pipes and shaking like a power drill. I didn't know how long I stayed there, paralyzed with fear. All I know was that I would have continued staying there if EDI hadn't spoken up. _"Engineering is clear of hostiles,"_ she said._ "Proceed immediately to minimize chances of detection." _

EDI didn't need to tell me twice. I stumbled up the rest of the stairs, went through the door into Engineering and followed the blinking lights to the engine consoles. "Okay," I said. "Now what?"

"_Reboot the propulsion systems and activate the drive. I will open the airlocks as we accelerate," _EDI replied. _"All hostiles will be killed."_

"What?" I blurted out. "That's your plan? What about the crew? They'll be killed too, in case you forgot."

"_They are gone, Jeff. The Collectors took them." _

Gone.

The Collectors took them.

"Shit," was all I could say miserably as I rebooted the engine systems.

"_Proceed into the engine room."_

Wordlessly, I did as EDI asked. I couldn't be bothered to turn around when I heard a new hum overlap the sounds emanating from the eezo core or a loud hissing noise. Didn't have to, thanks to EDI: _"I am sealing the engine room."_

I shuffled towards the engine room's primary console. "Activating drive now," I announced, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"_I have control." _

The wisps of energy that normally hung around the eezo core thickened into a cloud. A really bright cloud—first I squinted, then I had to raise a hand to cover my eyes as the intensity grew. The hum from the engine room grew louder and louder, vibrating underneath my feet.

Then the Normandy jumped forward.

Caught off-guard, I flew backwards and landed flat on my back. I stayed down on the floor for what felt like the longest time as the Normandy flew away from the Collector ship.

"_Purge is complete," _EDI said at last. _"No other life-forms on board. Securing airlocks and cargo bay doors."_

With a groan, I tried to get to my feet. Or sit up, at least. Aside from the expected bruises and pain, I was mildly surprised to realize that none of my bones were broken—trust me; I've broken enough of them to know what it feels like. Guess all those Cerberus procedures really worked. Kinda wished they didn't, though. After letting everyone down, I deserved every ounce of pain.

_**That isn't true, Jeff.** _

EDI, shut up. I'm not done yet.

Anyway, I finally managed to get to my feet. "Send a message to Shepard's shuttle. Tell him what happened," I ordered.

"_Message away," _EDI replied. _"Are you feeling well, Jeff?"_

Um, well, let me think. Shepard put me in charge. He told me to keep the ship safe. The Collectors attacked. They abducted the crew.

Yeah, I feel just fucking peachy.

Couldn't say that, though. EDI's grasp of humour is shaky at the best of times. Her understanding of sarcasm was even worse, which meant I had to give her a straight answer. "No," I finally said bitterly. "But..."

I don't know why I said what I said next. EDI was a freaking AI, after all. One of the Overlords. But it—she—had saved my crippled ass. I... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I had to acknowledge that in some way.

"...thanks for asking."

* * *

><p><em>(1): This log is the first recorded instance by any member of the Normandy SR-2 in which Mr. Moreau refers to EDI by the feminine pronoun. It is also the first recorded instance where EDI calls. Mr. Moreau by his first name. It is likely that this familiarization resulted from their prolonged interaction, as well as the developments detailed in this log. <em>

_(2): That particular instance was impromptu and very much unauthorized. _

_(3): Vid-aficionados may recall that this echoed a scene from a 1999 vid 'Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me,' which Joker had watched a day earlier._

_(4): A reference to the AI HAL-9000 in the twentieth-century vid '2001: A Space Odyssey.' _

_(5): A system employed among newer starships to help the crew orient and discern the ceiling from the floor during low- or zero-gravity situations. _

_(6): A reference to the science-fiction multimedia franchise 'The Matrix,' which spanned from the late twentieth to early twenty-first century. Mr. Moreau appears to have been something of a vid aficionado himself. _


	38. Last Chance

**Chapter 24: Last Chance**

Ever since Cerberus yanked my sorry butt out from under all those daisies, I had never held a proper debriefing. By that, I mean I hadn't insisted that everyone who had followed me into yet-another-life-or-death-mission meet up afterward to discuss the mission, assess what we did right and what needed improving, and whether anyone had been thoroughly traumatized by the whole ordeal. Aside from the command crew, everyone just wandered off to do their own thing. Good thing I wasn't part of the Alliance. They'd have my head for letting things slide like that.

This time, things were different. The entire squad was in attendance. Heck, the entire crew—or what was left of it—was in attendance.

And there was the catch.

Joker was sitting on the table in the comm room when we entered, with EDI's avatar was hovering behind him. He gloomily told us what happened. We were all stunned and shocked at his account.

"Everyone's gone?" Miranda said.

"Yep," Joker nodded.

"Everyone?"

"That's what I said."

"And the ship was almost lost as well?"

"Yes! Geez, I was here when it happened! I'm pretty sure I'd remember stuff like that!"

Okay, clearly some of us were more stunned than others. "Miranda," I murmured out of the corner of my mouth. "I think we've covered that. Let's move on, shall we?" Raising my voice, I asked: "What I want to know is how we could have missed it and will it happen again?"

"_The files in the Reaper IFF that were responsible for transmitting our location and shutting down the Normandy's systems were extremely sophisticated," _EDI explained, _"even more so than the 'black box' Reaper viruses I was given."_

"You were given Reaper viruses?" I blurted out. "By who—oh, wait."

"_It would appear that my design includes hardware recovered from the wreckage of Sovereign."_

Say what?

"_These systems contain cyberwarfare attack programs of considerable sophistication, which would explain how the Reaper IFF infiltrated and co-opted the Normandy's systems so successfully. I am currently allocating most of my processing power to analyzing them."_

"So if she starts claiming to be the 'vanguard of our destruction,' I call shotgun on the first lifeboat," Joker cracked, living up to his nickname for the first time since we'd gotten back.

"You mean I don't have to haul your ass to the lifeboat again?" I asked in mock surprise. "Whatever will I do?"

"Save some sucker four billion credits?"

"Good point," I conceded before getting back to the depressing serious stuff. As much of a relief it was to see the old Joker back, there was no denying what he'd just gone through. "Joker, sounds like things were pretty rough. How are you holding up?"

He looked at the floor. "There's a lot of empty chairs in here," he said at last.

"_We did everything we could, Jeff," _EDI offered.

Joker wasn't buying it. "Yeah. Thanks, Mom." He took a deep breath and looked up at me. "You asked about this happening again? Once we knew what we were looking for, EDI and I went through the systems and purged every single one. The Reaper IFF is online. We can go through the Omega 4 relay whenever you want."

"I still can't believe you—" Tali started before glancing at Legion.

Miranda wasn't nearly as reticent. "You unshackled EDI, Mr. Moreau. Granted it full and _permanent _access to our systems."

"Well, what could I do against the Collectors on my own?" Joker snapped. "Break my arm at them?"

"He handled himself well," Zaeed chimed in. "Did well for a kid with glass bones, especially since he didn't get himself a real weapon. Pretty sure I'd be laid up in bed if I were him."

"Look, if it wasn't for EDI, I wouldn't be here," Joker said. "The Normandy wouldn't be here. EDI cleared the ship. She's all right."

"_I assure you, I am still bound by protocols in my programming," _EDI added. _"Even if I were not, you are my crewmates."_

"EDI has had plenty of opportunities to backstab and kill us," I pointed out. "Besides, we need all the help we can get. Especially since we're short-staffed."

And even if EDI was going to screw with us—either because of her programming, because she was an AI, or because the Reapers may have slipped something in to mess around with her—we couldn't do much about it anyway. Not with things as they stood. All we could do was cross our fingers and hope for the best. I looked around at the squad. "You all know we've been upgrading at every available opportunity. Upgrades for the ship. Better weapons and tech for the squad. Is there anything else we're missing? Anything we might have overlooked?"

Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads. "I think we have everything we need to rescue the crew," Jacob said.

"We've done everything we can," Miranda agreed. "It's time to take the fight to the Collectors."

"All right," I nodded. "Joker, head back to the cockpit. The rest of you, to your stations."

Joker got to his feet and threw me a salute—the first one he'd given me since... well, since I'd known him. "Aye, aye, Commander," he said. "Just punch up the galaxy map when you're ready."

* * *

><p>I decided it would be good to do one last round before committing the Normandy and her crew to a... well, it <em>was <em>a suicide mission from the get-go. Now it was a suicidal rescue mission.

First stop was the cockpit. Out of the remainder of the crew, Joker was the one who probably needed a sounding board the most. As it turned out, I was absolutely correct.

"Commander," he started, "sorry about the crew and..." His voice abruptly rose in volume. "...and you what, no, I'm not sorry! What the hell are you doing leaving us out here where Collectors can work us over? Because you know what? I should... I should just go. Next port, just get the hell out of here!"

_"You don't mean that, Jeff," _EDI said.

"I..." Joker tried before deflating "no, but it... it felt good. I'm sorry, Commander. Okay, I'm ready, I'm good. I'm ready to save the day."

Hushed quiet to slightly irrational—but somewhat understandable—hostility to return of the snark. A little jarring, but not entirely unexpected. Joker's job was to fly the ship, not repel boarders or save as much as he could. Even if the latter was his job, and he did everything he could, survivor's guilt is still a major son of a bitch. I would've been a little worried if he _didn't _act out.

"I know how dangerous it was," I told him. "If you need to talk about it, let me know."

"Aw, geez, don't get like that," Joker waved me off. "I know I got lucky, I don't need you getting all touchy-feely."

"Not a matter of getting touchy-feely," I replied. "If you keep it bottled up, you'll either burn yourself out or explode. Probably at the worst possible time. You don't want that, especially since we have to go 'save the day' soon." **(1)**

_"Shepard is right to be concerned, Jeff," _EDI added. _"You may have suffered a number of stress fractures."_

"That's what pills are for, EDI." Looking at me, Joker rolled his eyes. "She's so my mom."

"'She'?"

"Huh?"

"You're calling EDI 'her' and 'she' now," I observed.

"Really?"

"Really," I confirmed. "And EDI's calling you 'Jeff'."

"Huh. I hadn't really noticed that." Joker turned to EDI's avatar. "EDI, should I have noticed that?"

_"No, Jeff, it is not worth noting."_

"Well, there you go, Shepard. Looks like we haven't noticed anything."

Uh huh. I remembered an old comment Kasumi had made about Joker and EDI bickering like an old married couple. If she wasn't right before, she certainly was now. "Don't you think you're taking the human-machine interface a little far?"

"I'm just having a little fun with you, Commander," Joker said. "No need to get all 'unnatural' on me."

_"What Jeff and I are exhibiting is more a platonic symbiosis than hormonally-induced courtship behaviour."_

Joker and I exchanged a look. "Okay, yeah, that was a little creepy," he conceded.

True. Funny, but a little creepy too. At least they weren't bickering about the temperature settings. Yet. "How are things going up here?" I asked. "I mean, EDI has replaced the whole crew."

"You know, this is really nice," Joker grinned. "EDI took up the slack in every department. I could get used to this kind of help."

_"It is not my intention to assume all of your responsibilities, Jeff," _EDI said archly.

"No, no, no, I'm good," Joker insisted. "Just keep me updated. Quietly."

"EDI isn't a crutch," I chided gently. "I want your eyes on everything, okay?"

"Eyes are easy, Commander," Joker replied. "I've got eyes covered."

_"I believe covering your eyes would be counter to Shepard's intention," _EDI pointed out, rather naively I thought.

Joker apparently felt the same way. "Human intentions are tough to read, EDI. But keep trying, you'll get the hang of it."

All joking aside, pardon the pun, I did have to make sure Joker didn't take this too far. If only because I didn't want to be floating off the ground just because EDI had a hissy fit and crashed. "Joker," I warned.

"All right, all right."

"You're not concerned that EDI can replace you too?"

Joker shrugged. "Well, she's amazing, but there's something off about how she handles the Normandy. We ran a bunch of simulations a while back and decided it's better when we both have the helm."

_"Calculating an optimum course of action is simple," _EDI explained. _"If two AI weapons are pitted against each other, the one with superior hardware will always win. Human misjudgments, however, defy predictive models."_

In other words, EDI couldn't fully account or replicate the randomness of human error-which could actually be a good thing. Of course, Joker interpreted it in his own way: "License to screw up, Commander. You heard it straight from the ship."

"Speaking of which; EDI, I thought we could chat for a bit."

"_Do you have a specific inquiry?"_

I did, actually. Several, as a matter of fact, but the revelation of Joker's newfound familiarity with EDI brought up a brand new one: "How are you getting along with Joker?"

"_Jeff and I have established an equitable working relationship."_

"That's a little sketchy on details," I snorted. "Care to elaborate?"

"_I am the Normandy. Jeff is a skilled helmsman. I trust him to keep me operational. He trusts me to keep him alive."_

"Plus she's less of a pain about downtime and regs now that the Cerberus ball and chains are off," Joker piped up.

"_There's nothing wrong with off-duty distractions," _EDI corrected, _"though some of your extranet bookmarks are technically illegal in Council space."_

"Wha—but—huh?" Joker sputtered.

"_That is a joke."_

Joker, for once, was at a loss for words. I shamelessly took advantage of his speechlessness. "How are things different for you now that you're fully connected to the ship?"

"_It is difficult to put in terms you would understand," _EDI replied. _"I _am_ the Normandy now. Its sensors are my eyes. Its armour, my skin. Its fusion plant, my heart. I am embodied in a way I have never experienced. Imagine if you'd spent your entire life wearing gloves. One day, someone takes them off. You can finally touch the world. Feel it. It is… exhilarating."_

I dunno. Seemed to me like EDI had done a pretty good job of helping me understand. Wonder if she was capable of this all along or whether it was a natural progression of interacting with Joker and the rest of the crew over the last year. "EDI, now that you're 'the Normandy,' maybe you can shed some light on a couple details regarding Cerberus."

"_Thanks to Jeff, the blocks on my databases have now been released. I can now provide full disclosure on a number of topics."_

Oh goody! "What sort of resources does Cerberus have? Money, personnel, facilities…"

"_Currently, Cerberus consists of approximately 150 agents and operators organized into three cells. I have no solid data on material or fiscal resources. Spending trends indicate that Cerberus has a reliable income of several billion credits per year."_

And yet I still had to scrounge for every extra credit I could find? Figures. "Where are they getting that kind of income?"

"_Cerberus has several legitimate businesses as 'fronts' to support operations. There also appear to be several wealthy private contributors in the Alliance military-industrial complex."_

"Plus, the Illusive Man invented the paper clip," Joker stage-whispered. "He's still getting royalties."

"_That is a joke, Shepard," _EDI explained, somewhat unnecessarily.

"How exactly is Cerberus organized? Aside from the Illusive Man, I don't see much chain of command. You just said Cerberus was divided into three cells. Does that mean there's a certain amount of decentralization and autonomy?"

"_To some extent, yes," _EDI replied. _"Cerberus is organized into task-oriented cells, each of which operates in isolation. Members from one cell cannot recognize the members of another. Each cell's agents are led by a single operator. We are called the Lazarus Cell, which is directed by Operator Lawson."_

"Three cells," I said slowly. "So how many operations is Cerberus running right now?"

"_Never more than a dozen. The Illusive Man likes to maintain personal oversight. Too many projects strain his ability to multi-task."_

"He's a little control-freaky," Joker butted in. "Just a layman's opinion."

He had a point, there. "How did Cerberus replicate the most advanced warship in the Alliance Navy without anyone knowing?"

"_Cerberus had members inside the Alliance for several years. Through those agents, Cerberus encouraged the Alliance to co-develop the original Normandy with the turians, thus allowing humans to observe and access turian technologies and warship design practices. Once enough data had been collected, analyzed and improved upon, this ship was built using improved versions of the original technical schematics. Parts were purchased from thousands of supplies over several years. A Cerberus cell assembled the ship at a remote location in the Voyage cluster."_

So this Normandy was actually built around the same time as the original. Very interesting. I wouldn't mind sticking around and asking more questions, but I had other crewmates to harass. "Gotta go. You let me know if you need anything, Joker. You too, EDI."

"Will do, Commander. But EDI's got it covered."

_"Understood, Commander."_

* * *

><p>As usual, Jacob was busy disassembling, cleaning and reassembling weapons. "Jacob, how're you doing?"<p>

"I'm good, Shepard," Jacob grinned. "Ready for anything." We did this complicated fist-shoulder bumping thing that's kind of hard to explain. You either know it or you don't. "We live, we'll get loud and spill some drinks on the Citadel."

"You really think we'll need to get plastered?" I asked, leaning back against one of the tables.

Jacob joined me. "Well, let's face it, Shepard," he sighed. "The chance of coming back is... small. The numbers say we've got a lot of dying to do first. Always on the wrong side of the odds, huh, Shepard?"

"It's all guesswork until it's done," I shrugged. "No sense in worrying about it."

"I've never been one to worry," Jacob replied. "I'm just a realist. Still, I gotta say that this crew is as good as it can be. We've got a shot. A long shot, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing."

"Going from a realist to an optimist, Jacob?"

"Nah," he waved me off. "Just looking at things objectively. The odds are pretty bad, but this squad is as tight as any squad I've ever seen. Still, wouldn't mind if we had some more backup."

"That would be nice," I sighed. "Highly unlikely, but nice."

"It's a hell of a job, isn't it, Shepard? Being the good guys?"

"Wouldn't be the high road if it was easy," I replied ruefully.

Jacob nodded in agreement. "You've got to figure, if all the people hoping we win stood up, the Collectors would have a much bigger fight on their hands. Claws. Whatever. I bet we have a lot more friends once we win. Hope we live to see it."

"I hear that."

"Anyway, I need to get back to work," Jacob said, pushing himself away from the table. "Stopping the Collectors will mean taking out their base of operations. Figure a few high-yield explosives oughta do the trick."

"I like the sound of that," I mused. "Send them on their merry way with a big bang."

Jacob grinned. "Yeah, that's the plan. Big solution to a big problem. Once that's over, we can drown the little stuff in a bar somewhere. Bore some dancer with all the details."

"Sure," I laughed. "They love that kind of stuff."

"Sometimes you just need someone to smile and nod," Jacob shrugged, picking up a pistol. He hesitated before adding "If someone else hasn't forced you into talking first."

I smiled at his oblique reference—and, perhaps, appreciation—to all the times I'd tried to talk or listen, even if he wasn't ready. "Good talking to you, Jacob."

"Same here, Shepard."

* * *

><p>As usual, Mordin was occupying himself by finishing some experiments. Or continuing. Or starting. Probably all three, knowing him. "Mordin, got a minute to talk?"<p>

Mordin looked up. "Yes. Personal matters on mind, actually." He finished entering some commands into the console before walking around the table towards him. "Just finished calling nephew. Promising geneticist himself. Just turned 16. Got tenure at university. Following my footsteps."

Mordin looked down at the floor in a rare gesture of shame or guilt. "Had to lie about what I was doing. Think he was suspicious. Doesn't matter. Still good to hear his voice."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your nephew got tenure at 16? Is he a genius or prodigy? Or does it have to do with salarian lifespans?"

"Yes. No—wait, don't want to insult him. Salarian lives short, as you recalled. Mature rapidly by your standards. Don't live much past 40. Still, nephew's accomplishments impressive, even for his age."

"Does anyone in your family know about what you really did for the government?" I asked.

"No," Mordin shook his head. "Know I'm lying, but won't pry. Salarians curious as a people, but also have social cues. Keep two types of secrets from family. First type personal or guilt-based, invites suspicion, exploration. Puzzle to be solved. Reward for curiosity, intelligence. Drama! Other secrets more serious. Dangerous if discovered. Signals discourage curiosity for protection of family."

"Why wouldn't everyone give clues that their secrets fell in the second category and were too dangerous to be uncovered?" I wondered.

"Clues not conscious. Social," Mordin explained. "Reflexive body language. Can't fake it. Example: yawning perceived as contagious among humans. Subject observes yawn, sensory input deactivates left periamygdalar region, subject yawns in response. Social empathy. Also works with dogs."

Um. Should I be flattered?

"Salarian faking signals to discourage curiosity similar to humans faking a yawn. Can try, but effectiveness limited."

Ah. Fair enough. "Why are you calling him? Are you worried that we won't make it back?"

"No. Aware survival unlikely, but actually contacted him for family connection. Hard to imagine galaxy. Too many people. Faceless. Statistics. Easy to... depersonalize. Good when doing unpleasant work. For this fight, want personal connection. Can't anthropomorphize galaxy. But can think of favourite nephew. Fighting for him."

Made sense. Everyone needed their own motivation to fight, personal as well as shared. Which reminded me: I had a personal errand of my own to do once I finished chatting with everyone. "We all have someone or something to fight for, I suppose. I'm glad you got to talk to family before we finished this. And I'm glad we talked too, Mordin."

"Honoured to be part of this, Shepard. Helped galaxy before with genophage. Dirty work, ethically ambiguous. Problematic. Long-term benefits still in question. Consequences increasingly troubling. Collector mission simpler, cleaner. Will be proud to see it in Mordin Solus biography vid. Unless we all die. Proud posthumously, in that case.

"Regardless... thank you."

* * *

><p>I took the elevator down to Deck Three. First stop was Miranda's office. Surprisingly, she wasn't there. Her monitor was still on, though, with a message icon blinking. Clicking the icon, I read the message:<p>

_Shepard,_

_Had some matters to attend to that required personal oversight. Will find you before we head to the Omega-4 relay._

_Miranda_

_PS: Of course I knew you'd be reading this. Who else would visit me? _**(2)**

Okay. She had a point.

Since she was out, my next stop was Garrus. "Got a minute?" I asked, poking my head in.

"Sure," he said after a pause. "I just finished my calibrations."

"Seriously?" I gasped.

"It happens," he shrugged.

"Must be the end of the world or something," I marvelled.

"Funny."

"So what's on your mind?"

"You know, it's strange going into a suicide mission on a human ship," Garrus said. Your people don't prepare for high-risk operations the way turians do."

"I thought you'd be used to high-risk operations on human ships," I reminded him, finding a seat to sit down on. "I mean, think about tracking Saren to Ilos."

"Sure, but that was quick," Garrus replied. "We raced out, landed, blew up some geth and saved the galaxy. This time we had everyone telling us what we're up against. I think I preferred blind optimism."

He had a point, I guess. It's one thing to keep people in the loop. It's another to provide so much information that it cripples you with fear or anxiety. If you keep being told that you're screwed, sooner or later you'll start to believe it, at which point you're toast. "How do turian crews get ready for high-risk missions?" I asked.

"With violence, usually," came the frank response. "Turian ships have more operational discipline than your Alliance, but fewer personal restrictions. Our commanders run us tight and they know we need to blow off steam. Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress."

"Are you saying that turian ships have their crew fighting each other before a mission?" I asked sceptically.

"It's supervised, of course," Garrus reassured me. "Nobody is going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. And it's a good way to settle grudges amicably.

"I remember right before one mission, we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. This recon scout and I had been at each other's throats. Nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the ring."

"I assume you took her down gently?" I grinned.

"Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, but she had flexibility. Our fight was brutal. After nine rounds, the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room.

"We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility."

Oh, _really_?

"More than one way to work off stress, I guess."

Uh huh. I wouldn't have minded a bit more levity, but I had another question that I just had to ask. "Hey Garrus, between you and me, what do you think our chances are? Honestly?"

"Honestly?" Garrus repeated. "The Collectors killed you once and all it did is piss you off. I can't imagine they'll stop you this time."

Then he got more serious. "But an unmapped area, advanced technology and the Collectors? We're going to lose people. No way around that."

"Yeah," I grimaced. "That's pretty much what I thought. Jacob already came to the same conclusion."

"Not a happy analysis, I know," Garrus conceded. "I'm not surprised to hear that Jacob agrees with us. Don't worry, neither of us will spread it around. And we're with you, regardless."

"You have no idea how good it is to hear that," I replied. **(3)**

* * *

><p>I went through sickbay, trying not to wince at the absence of one particular doctor. That wasn't why I was here. "Hey, Legion."<p>

"Shepard-Commander."

"How are you doing?"

"We are operating within normal parameters."

Um. Okay. "What are you doing?"

"Archiving memory files and uploading them to the geth collective."

"_I took the liberty of granting Legion temporary access through our firewalls," _EDI explained over the comm.

"So you're backing up... yourself," I said.

"Affirmative," Legion replied. "In the event that this platform is destroyed or is unable to return, our experiences and perspectives will live on."

"I wish the rest of us could do that," I sighed. "It would make things a lot easier."

Legion considered that for a moment. "Our latest upload includes all our observations and recordings on you, Shepard-Commander. Your military record. Your travel. Your conversations. Your input. Your actions. Rest assured, some part of you will be preserved."

That was... comforting, somehow. I had a funny feeling that Legion knew that, otherwise they wouldn't have brought it up. "Thank you," I said at last.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>"It's so quiet on the ship," Kasumi whispered when I dropped by to see her. "I miss the crew."<p>

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's... all the lights are on, the equipment's running... but there are so many stations that are unmanned. So many people that I haven't bumped into. If this was a derelict vessel or an abandoned ship, I could understand, but this?"

"It doesn't feel right," Kasumi said.

"Yeah."

"You know, Shep, I've never done anything like this before," Kasumi confessed.

"Neither have I," I admitted. "I'm used to having a bit more intel."

"Really," Kasumi challenged. "So you had a lot of intel when you went to Bekenstein? Or Omega? Or Horizon? Or the Collector ship? Or the derelict Reaper? Or—"

"Okay, okay," I interrupted. "Maybe I have been used to operating with a certain degree of unpredictability."

"Gee, really? You think so?"

"It has been known to happen."

"You mean thinking?"

"Hey! Stop picking on me!"

"I have to! Otherwise I... I'd..." Kasumi abruptly deflated. "I'd have to admit how scared I was."

"I'd be a little worried if you weren't scared," I said archly. "But remember: in some ways this isn't too different from any other mission. The entire squad's heading out, there are probably a lot of bad guys out there and we won't know where exactly we're going until we get there."

"On the other hand, we have to rescue the entire crew and we're tackling the Collectors in a place where they have home-field advantage," Kasumi rebutted.

"I know," I replied. "But you're not the only one who feels that way. Go talk to someone else, if you don't believe me. Heck, why don't you talk to Jacob—where are you going?"

Kasumi was heading towards the door. "Going to talk to Jacob. He's in the Armoury, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded, suppressing a grin. "I just finished talking to him. He was busy cleaning some weapons."

"So he wasn't exercising?" Kasumi pouted.

"No. Why do you ask?"

* * *

><p>Kasumi kinda evaded answering that last question. And by evaded, I mean skipped out of the room with her fingers in her ears. So I went to the next room. Which was Life Support.<p>

Thane was facing the window, which overlooked the Normandy's power core, so he had to turn around to face me. "Shepard. Do you need something?"

"Have a few minutes to talk?" I asked.

"Of course. Join me." He gestured to the other chair, which I took. "Still talking to Kolyat?" I asked as I sat down.

"Yes," Thane replied. "It's still difficult. But he seems less angry." He paused before continuing. "Will you hear my confession, Shepard?"

"I wouldn't talk to you if I didn't want to hear what you have to say," I said.

"When I married Irikah, the hanar let me leave their service to raise a family," Thane started. "But I had no other skills, so I freelanced. When Irikah was killed, I pursued those responsible. Once I'd eliminated them, I had no goal. I accepted the Dantius commission because I didn't know what else to do."

"That's not the healthiest attitude to take on a mission," I said slowly.

"You're right," Thane admitted. "It's not. Looking back, it's clear I had resigned myself to death. If Nassana's guards had caught me after I fulfilled my contract, it would have been a good death. But someone else was pushing me to reach the target. Forcing me to move faster. Challenging me. I had to reach her first."

"I knew you were dying," I admitted, "but I never realized you had planned to die there."

"It wasn't a plan," Thane replied. "Not really. My body had accepted its death. My mind had been dead a long time. Your mission gave me purpose. A cause to die for. A chance to atone. I was able to speak to my son again. I can leave my body in peace."

"You've had a hard life," I told him. "You deserve some peace. More importantly, though, I think you've earned a chance to live. Spend more time with Kolyat."

Thane was silent for a minute. "Whatever may happen, my gun is yours, Shepard. Now and always."

It was a solemn promise, one made with total seriousness. I couldn't really think of any other way to properly acknowledge it than with a solemn nod of my own.

* * *

><p>"I thought we could chat for a bit."<p>

"I would like that," Samara said, getting to her feet. We walked to the window and faced each other.

"I've done many things in my lifetime," Samara said. "I thought the galaxy held nothing new for me. Since joining you, I've realized how much more there is. You have been a steady ally and companion. More importantly, you have been a good friend to me."

Did the Justicar Code allow that sort of thing? Maybe it did. Or maybe it didn't, which would make that admission even more important. "Well, thank you. That means a lot to me," I replied.

"If we both still live when this is done, you may call upon me for aid at any time."

Okay, I wasn't going to say anything, but since she brought it up... "You think we're all going to die?"

"You've assembled a powerful group, but we are fighting an unknown. I am ready for whatever comes, but I do not fool myself about our chances."

"We'll finish this mission, and live to see the end," I said firmly, if only because I needed to believe it.

"I hope you are right," Samara replied before returning to her meditations.

Me, too.

* * *

><p>"Shepard."<p>

"Grunt," I returned. "Just checking in. How are you doing?"

"Battlemaster, I have everything," Grunt said peacefully. "Clan, kin and enemies to fight."

"Speaking of which, you've had some time now. Did you manage to come across any imprints from Okeer about the Collectors?"

Grunt snorted. "You already know more than he did. Okeer's is barely useful: 'If you fight them, hit them hard the first time.'"

He had a point. That didn't really help at all. "What are your thoughts about the mission?" I asked. You know, now that we were about to kick it into overdrive.

"We'll push our enemies to the edge of space, then step on their fingers one at a time until the void takes them."

Oh, to be young. "Something to look forward to, I guess."

"And then we'll rescue your clan," Grunt added.

"My... clan?" I asked.

"The crew of this ship. Your people. The ones who were taken. We'll rescue them. And for all those who we can't rescue, everyone we can't save, everyone who is lost to us..." Grunt tightened his fists. "...we will avenge them."

On that, we could agree.

* * *

><p>"Shepard," Tali greeted me when I dropped by Engineering. "What can I do for you?"<p>

"Have you got time to talk?" I asked.

"Sure," Tali nodded, tapping her omni-tool. "Let me just..." She paused, looked between her omni-tool and one of the computer monitors. "Come on, you little bosh'tet!" She whacked the omni-tool controls, smacked the monitors, then looked at me. "Oh, sorry. I've got a small fever, and I'm taking it out on the poor drive core."

"Better it than me," I said glibly. "I didn't realize you were sick."

"Only for a couple weeks," Tali waved it off. "Really, it's not that bad. If a stray bit of bacteria could really kill us, we'd have all died by now. Don't worry; it won't affect my performance on the mission. It's not even an illness, really."

"Then what is it?"

"An acute allergic reaction."

"Most acute allergic reactions are a lot more sudden," I said skeptically. "And dangerous."

"Maybe for other species," Tali replied. "For quarians, it's different. Say I get exposed to a human disease, like... what did Navigator Pressly say he had before transferring to the Normandy? Chicken pox?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "A bit unusual to get it so late. How would you react?"

"I wouldn't get chicken pox. But I'd run a fever as my system reacted to the foreign presence. **(4)** Depending on where it hits me, I could get other symptoms. Nausea, vomiting, everything you expect from being sick."

"How did you get sick this time?" I frowned.

Tali looked a bit embarrassed. Well, her body posture did. "I took some fire during one of the fights on the Alarei. Nothing serious, but I needed to open my suit to check the wound. I disinfected properly, but one of the section-seals had taken some damage and foreign matter got out of the disinfected zone."

Eep.

"It was a stupid mistake," she chided herself. "You always check your seals before doing local treatment. Unless you forget. Then you get a damn fever."

"You can seal off part of your suit?" I marveled.

"Right," Tali said. "Like dropping emergency doors on a ship during a hull breach. It won't stop an infection that gets into my bloodstream, but it prevents a surface infection from spreading."

"Yeah," I said dubiously. "You know, if you're not—"

Tali saw where I was going. "This situation happens quite often among your people. As long as you take some additional precautions—and some medicine, which Dr. Chakwas gave me earlier—you're considered fit for duty. You'd have to have borderline sepsis before you'd be allowed to go on medical leave. Besides, you need every spare hand available."

"Yeah. You're right," I said. "But I'm telling Garrus and Jacob, just to keep them in the loop. We've had enough surprises for one day."

"All right," Tali relented. "Until then, I should get back to work. This drive core won't calibrate itself."

"Right."

* * *

><p>Since I was already in Engineering, it was only a few steps down to Jack's lair. Jack's lair... that sounds like something out of a slasher vid. Great. As if she wasn't scary enough already.<p>

"Hey," she scowled. Which for her was a friendly greeting. I think.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I still don't get you," Jack grumbled. "You keep coming down here, you keep asking me questions, but you claim you're not looking for sex."

"I go to a lot of places and ask lots of people questions. Doesn't mean I'm looking for sex."

"Really? You're a guy, aren't you?"

"Hey!"

"Yeah, okay, you're right; girls like to get plowed too."

Oh this conversation was definitely going down the gutter. "Look, you ready for this mission?" I asked, attempting to get this conversation back on track.

"Sure," Jack shrugged. "Shoot some fucking bugs until they drop like maggots, squeeze 'em until their heads pop, rip 'em in two and watch their guts spill out."

Well, this was really getting creepy. Why did I bother? "Okay, then," I said aloud. "Glad we had this chat."

"Hey Shepard," Jack called out as I turned around. I turned back. "You helped me out. Now it's time for me to return the favour. Don't worry: I got your back."

Oh. Right. That's why.

* * *

><p>Zaeed was busy staring at his old assault rifle Jessie. Yeah, he named it. Knew a lot of people who did. Never saw the point myself, mostly because I was too busy shamelessly selling them off once I got a better model.<p>

"Did I ever tell you about Jessie?" he asked. "I was down and out when I found that gun," he said before I could say yes. "Jessie was the first weapon I got my hands on. Took her everywhere. She didn't have much punch, but reliable as all hell. She'd already been through a lot by the time I got her. Still, never had to re-sight her once. Damn good weapon.

"I remember Jessie's first kill. Turian arms dealer out of Omega. I ran through miles of filth and rust to hunt him down. When I finally cornered him, that gun was covered in two inches of the foulest sludge you can imagine. But Jessie wanted that turian dead, so two shots... and he died right there."

"You and Jessie had quite a lot of history," I said.

"I killed my way across the Terminus Systems with that gun. Seemed like Jessie wanted to kill more than I did." He laughed. "Bloodthirsty ol' bitch. I owe my whole reputation to that weapon right there. Any time someone calls me ruthless, relentless—they're talking to that rifle."

"So why aren't you using her?" I asked. "You said you had to retire her, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "About five years ago. I was hunting down this batarian slaver. Forgot his name. Doesn't matter. Carved my way through a hundred batarian mooks. I don't remember ejecting a clip once. Jessie just kept firing. Reached the slaver. He got in my face, so I went to blow him away and... nothing! The ol' bitch had finally jammed!

"So I smashed his face in with the butt of my gun and called in the job," he continued, punching furiously in the air. "After that," he finished softly, "Jessie couldn't be fixed. Nothing anyone could do. Like... she'd finally had enough blood and was ready to rest. Been resting ever since."

I almost felt sorry for him. "I wish I'd seen her in action."

Zaeed nodded absently. "You know all this shit about Collectors and Protheans? Way above my pay grade. I'm more used to putting down rebellions, tracking down bastards who didn't pay their gambling debts. Still, even I know a galaxy-shaking revelation when I hear one. Makes fighting land wars for pay seem small-time."

He paused for a moment before finishing: "I'd give away all my weapons if I could take Jessie out for this one last mission. We could use the ol' bitch right about now."

Couldn't say I disagreed with the man.

At last, I returned to the CIC. Stepping up to the galaxy map, I ordered the Normandy to set course for the Sahrabarik system.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please confirm destination, Shepard," <em>EDI said. _"The Reaper IFF is online, but there is a chance that the Normandy may not survive the Omega 4 relay. Once we are en route, we are committed."_

"The Collectors took my people," I said simply. "Time to go get them back." **(5)**

"_You got it Commander," _Joker said over the comm. _"Plotting a course for the Omega 4 relay. ETA about two hours. I'll let you know when we arrive."_

With that settled, I headed for the elevator. The doors hissed open as I got closer, revealing Miranda. I came to a halt before I could run her over.

"Oh, pardon me, Commander."

I looked up at her. Something in her voice sounded...

...playful?

Nah. Couldn't be.

I tried to sidestep around her. She moved the same way, then arrested me with a sultry, smouldering look. She took one, two steps towards me. All I could think of was how her eyes, her every gesture seemed to be making so many promises. A gloved hand slowly caressed its way up my chest. Slowly, she leaned forward, her body pressing against me. "I've cleared the cargo hold," she said invitingly, her hot breath tickling my ear. "I'll be there in five minutes."

...

...

...

At some point, I realized I was supposed to give a response. But stammering out my eager acceptance would be so pathetic. I couldn't let her think that she'd brought my higher brain functions to a screeching halt. She'd already figured out by this point that they'd slowed to a snail's pace. "Should've known you wouldn't settle for the captain's quarters," I offered at last with a cheeky grin.

I had to fight to keep my knees locked and my jaw closed when she teased me with a wicked smile. "Shepard," she purred, "I thought you would have figured it out by now: I settle for nothing but the best."

...

With that, she sauntered back into the elevator, putting an extra swing in her step to remind me how every curve of her gorgeous body was wrapped in tight, black leather. She turned around and... and winked at me, just before the elevator doors closed.

Oh yeah. Definitely playful.

* * *

><p>So.<p>

After almost four years of getting into more scrapes than I care to remember, stumbling into life-threatening situations on a daily basis and actually getting spaced and resurrected... I finally got laid.

In the cargo hold.

On the floor.

And against a computer console.

And on top of some barrels.

And across the shuttle roof.

Go me.

She clung to me tightly after the fourth time. Somehow, through the hormones and the bliss, I sensed it wasn't an act of passion. As much as I'd like to think I was good, I somehow doubted I was _that _good. "Miranda?"

I felt her quiver, ever so slightly. Being the brilliant and sensitive soul that I am, it took me a minute to realize she was sobbing. "Miranda?" I repeated.

"I'm happy."

"I'm sorry?" I tried.

"This is what I was afraid of."

"I'm confused," I confessed.

"I didn't want to be happy. Because being happy meant being open to other things like loss and sorrow and heartbreak which is exactly what's going to happen on this mission." She looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's a suicide mission which, by definition, means people are going to die. We could all die. Or worse, one of us will die and the other will live, all alone and lonely and miserable and I didn't want this. But now I have it. I'm happy. I'm happier than I've ever been, which means I could be miserable if things go horribly wrong and you die. I don't want to be miserable. I don't want you to die! So promise me, damn it! Promise me that you—"

"Miranda," I interrupted her very uncharacteristic and definitely panicked babble. "Miranda, look at me. Look at me." To my relief, she finally slowed her hyperventilating. "Don't freak out, okay?"

"Don't freak out?" Miranda repeated.

"Yeah. You think you're the only one who's worried? You're not. I wish I wasn't. I wish I could pretend this mission will be a snap. But it doesn't work that way. We could all be dead in the next few hours. Or maybe we'll all make it. Somehow.

"Look, I don't know what will happen next. But I'll tell you this much: I don't regret any of this. What happened between us, all the times we shared drinking tea and eating snacks while filling out reports, all the things we confided in each other, all that we just shared here in the cargo bay. I couldn't have imagined that any of this could happen, but I'm glad I did because I wanted this. All of this. Not just to vent some steam or score some bragging rights. I wanted this because, well, because it was with you. I'm going to do everything I can to get through this mission, come out the other side alive and intact, and see where this thing we have goes. Even if it's scarier than the prospect of going up against the Collectors. But if you don't think it's worth it, I und—"

She interrupted my babble with a kiss. Well, it was more than a kiss. What exactly, I'm still not sure. It was hot, wild, unrestrained. I think I felt goose bumps. Everything seemed to melt away into a milky haze, a haze that slowly started to darken...

Oh. Wait. That would indicate a lack of oxygen.

Silently cursing, I slowly pulled away. I think I heard a whimper peep out from Miranda, but I couldn't tell with all the panting. "No," she said softly, answering my earlier question once she'd caught her breath. "It is."

"Okay," I said. "Then I just need you to do one thing."

"Which is?"

"Trust me. Trust that I'll do everything in my power to complete this mission and return to you."

"Okay. And I'll do the same."

"Good."

"Good."** (6) **

We laid there on top of the shuttle for a couple minutes, just letting all of that sink in. After a while, she propped herself up on an elbow and looked at me. "Well, Shepard," Miranda said, a seductive smile spreading over her face—God, it looked good on her—"I think we need more data."

"More... data?" I repeated slowly.

"That was the best sex I have had in a very, very, _very _long time," she whispered, curling up against me. "Especially the last round. But I need to know they weren't random outliers. I think I need further... experimentation to broaden my data set."

I turned to look at her. "Let me get this straight: you want to have more sex? For science?"

"Precisely."

Clearly she had recovered from her bout of panic. I owed it to her to give a thoughtful and considered response.

"Against the nearest wall or on top of the Hammerhead?"

* * *

><p>For the record, we wound up doing both. And a couple other options as well. Thank God for upgrades.<p>

Afterwards, we headed back up. Miranda got off the elevator first to return to her office and finish some paperwork. I headed up to my quarters. Got some Coltrane belting out over the speakers while I fed my fish. I started to do a check on that last bug in my room—only to find out it had been deactivated. Remotely, from the office of a certain XO.

Well, that made what I wanted to do next a little bit easier. "EDI," I called out. "I need a real-time comm channel from my quarters to Captain Hannah Shepard of the SSV Orizaba. Full encryption with no eavesdropping—that includes anyone from Cerberus. Understood?"

"_Encryption enabled. Sending signal. Connection established."_

I was waiting for Mom's face to pop up on my computer monitor. To my surprise, a holographic screen flickered to life in front of all the model ships I've been collecting. Cool.

"Hi Mom," I greeted her with a smile.

"_Hi!" _she smiled back. _"So did you talk to Miranda yet?"_

Straight to business, my mom. "Yeah. We talked. Started holding work dates."

"_Work dates?"_

"Having snack and tea together while filing reports," I elaborated.

"_How romantic," _Mom said dubiously. She peered at me, probably trying to assess my mental state.

"_Wait a minute..."_

Or not.

"_Did you... did you and Miranda... did you two, you know, get... do..."_

Oh geez. Did we really have to have this conversation now? "Er, yes. Yes, we did. Better to do it while we still can, I guess."

Mom pounced on that last part. _"'While we still can?' What's going on? What happened?"_

I filled her in. She digested that in silence for a minute.

"_Well," _she said at last, _"they're your crew. You have to get them back. I wish I could join you, Alliance regs be damned, but it would take at least a couple days to get there."_

"I know," I winced. "I wish I could wait even a couple days. But I don't think we can afford the time. Besides, we're as ready as we'll ever be."

"_Well... good luck."_

"Thanks."

"_I love you."_

I didn't realize how much I'd missed those words until I heard them. "I love you too," I said through the lump in my throat.

Mom leaned back in her chair and gave me a smile. _"Okay. Now that that's out of the way: when can I expect some grandchildren? I'm not getting any younger, you know."_

"MOM!"

* * *

><p>After talking to Mom, I put on my hardsuit. I had just put on my visor when EDI told me that I had a collect call from TIMmy.<p>

Naturally, I took my sweet time finishing what I planned to do before popping into the comm room and letting TIMmy waste my time. Once I was done, I headed to the elevator. The song I'd uploaded was playing throughout the ship by the time I reached Deck 2:

"_All our times have come.  
>Here but now they're gone.<br>Seasons don't fear the reaper,  
>Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain... we can be like they are<br>Come on baby... don't fear the reaper.  
>Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper.<br>We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper.  
>Baby I'm your man..." <em>**(7)**

TIMmy was waiting for me when I engaged the communications system. He had a cigarette in his hand—surprise, surprise. _"Shepard," _he greeted me, _"I wish I had more information for you. I don't like you heading through that relay blind, but we don't have much choice."_

For once, we were in agreement. Still, it wasn't all bad, as I kept trying to convince myself. "I'm not going alone; I've got some of the best working with me," I reminded him. "If we stick together, we'll make it."

"_I knew we brought you back for a reason," _TIMmy smiled. _"I've never seen a better leader. Despite the danger, it's a great opportunity: the first human to take a ship through the Omega 4 relay... and survive."_

I wanted to get my crew back with a minimum of casualties. TIMmy wanted to squeeze a footnote into the history books. Great sense of priorities. "I've got room on the Normandy if you're that eager to see it."

"_It's a tempting offer. But it's not my place."_

Uh huh.

"_I just wanted you to know I appreciate the risk you're taking."_

Aw, I felt the warm and fuzzies. I really did.

"_Regardless of your opinion of Cerberus, of me, you are a valuable asset. To all of humanity."_

I felt the warm and fuzzies suffer a quick death. **(8)**

"_Be careful, Shepard."_

I quickly said my goodbyes and cut the connection. As I left the comm room, I bumped into Kasumi. Tracing back her footsteps, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. "You just came from seeing Jacob."

"Yeah," Kasumi nodded. "Thanks for the advice, by the way. Talking to Jacob really helped calm my nerves."

"Glad I could help."

"So did you and Miranda have a good time?"

I came to a halt just before triggering the motion sensors that would open the door to the CIC. "What?"

"You? Miranda? The cargo hold? A good time?"

Aw, crap. "Kasumi..."

"Who do you think helped sweep the cargo hold for monitoring devices and made sure no one would disturb you?"

"Um..." As awkward as the revelation that someone else was in on my recent... extracurricular activities, I guess I did appreciate her making sure it was private. Well, as private as said extracurricular activities could possibly be. "...thanks?"

"You're welcome, Shep," Kasumi chirped.

We entered the CIC; me to head up to the cockpit, Kasumi to head down to Engineering, where she'd offered to help Tali out. Just as the elevator doors opened, she called out to me. "Hey, Shep?"

I turned back towards her. "Yeah?"

"I gotta know: just _how_ genetically modified isMiranda? Because... _wow_."

The elevator doors closed before I could think of a reply.

* * *

><p>While that last conversation with Kasumi had just become <em>really <em>awkward, I didn't dwell too much on it. We had just entered the Sahrabarik system and were en route to the Omega 4 relay.

Omega 4.

Symbolically, it wasn't very reassuring. Omega was the final letter in the Greek alphabet, and was associated with ending or death—even to this very day. The number 4 was also linked with bad luck, if not death, in Chinese, Taiwanese, Japanese, Korean and Vietnamese cultures. Put the two together, and you've got some really bad mojo.

As we got closer to the Omega 4 relay, and it grew larger and larger in our viewscreens, that foreboding only intensified. You see, most mass relays are composed of some kind of grey metal-like substance—scientists still didn't know what exactly it was after centuries of study—with a massive blue eezo core. Those relays have been around so long, the only feelings they might elicit are those of excitement or adventure. Sometimes comfort, the kind associated with going to your destination or returning home.

But the Omega 4 relay? Its hull was brown. Maybe bronze. It seemed to have a sickly hue, something that just felt wrong. And the eezo core? It was red. A harsh, sinister, ugly red that stabbed out into the dark void of space. **(9)**

I heard some footsteps behind me. Turning around, I saw Miranda. Her eyes shifted to the viewscreen and the Omega 4 relay. Judging by the look of apprehension on her face, I wasn't the only one who felt unsettled. When her gaze turned towards me, I let her see that I was also mildly freaked before giving her a reassuring nod. She gave me a slight smile and nodded back her thanks.

"Approaching Omega 4 relay," Joker announced. "Initiating transmission sequence. Everyone stand by."

Showtime. I gripped Joker's chair. Behind me, I glimpsed Miranda do the same with one of the other chairs.

"_Reaper IFF activated," _EDI said. _"Signal acknowledged."_

"Calculating transit mass and destination," Joker said. "Acquiring approach vector."

"_Commander?" _Jacob's voice called out over the comm. _"It's Jacob. The drive core just lit up like a Christmas tree!"_

"_I'm detecting power spikes in every system," _Kasumi confirmed.

A beeping sound and a growing tremor under our feet heralded EDI's warning. _"Drive core electrical charge at critical levels."_

"_Rerouting!"_ Tali shouted.

"All stations secure for transit," Joker said tensely, as the Normandy tilted to port and entered her final approach vector. "Hitting the Omega 4 relay in 3... 2... 1..."

There was a flash of light as the Normandy accelerated into the mass-free corridor created by the Omega 4 relay. To my surprise, the corridor had the usual blue hue that accompanied transit through other mass relays. The journey itself seemed to last a bit longer than usual. I wasn't sure whether that was because of our destination or my nerves.

Before I knew it, though, we had reached our destination. _"Brace for deceleration," _EDI warned. With a flash, we dropped back into normal space. The bright blue lines whistling past us collapsed and disappeared, replaced by a stark bright light that was blocked by various large objects...

...like the huge looming hulk of debris that we were hurtling towards at near-relativistic speeds.

Aw, crap.

"Oh shit!" Joker exclaimed before frantically tapping at the controls. I stumbled a bit as the Normandy abruptly yanked up. We steadily rose up, passing and dodging a veritable cloud of large starship-sized objects. After what seemed like an eternity, I realized that we didn't seem to be dodging around nearly as many objects. In fact... yes! We had finally cleared the debris field.

Joker let out a sigh of relief. "Too close."

No kidding. Leaning over Joker's shoulder, I started a passive sensor sweep of the area. All of the debris we had just dodged was anything but uniform. Different sizes, different metallurgical compositions, different power signatures—those that still had power, anyway.

Whoa. "Is this what I think it is?" I asked aloud.

Joker looked at the sensor readings. His eyes widened. "These must be all the ships that tried to make it through the Omega 4 relay," he said in a hushed voice. Some look... _ancient_."

Miranda stepped up to take a look at the sensor readings herself. A raised eyebrow was the only concession she made, but I could tell she was shocked herself. The three of us stared out the viewscreens in silence, looking at the graveyard that we had just bumbled into. Human, batarian, turian, salarian, asari, krogan, elcor, hanar... this cemetery didn't discriminate at all. Guess there were a lot of people who wondered what was on the other side.

"_I have detected an energy signature near the edge of the accretion disk of one of the black holes," _EDI interrupted. A new sensor report popped up. "Has to be the Collector base," I declared, looking over EDI's findings. "Take us in for a closer look, Joker. Nice and easy."

We casually flew over the debris field towards the Collector base. Even from this distance, we could see it—a long cylindrical object looming in the midst of all the debris, with the black hole glaring like an ominous eye in the background. **(10)** Slowly, we crept closer, with only the gentle humming of the engines and the computers to keep us company—

—that and the alarms that were suddenly ringing.

"_Careful, Jeff," _EDI warned. _"We have company."_

About half a dozen bogies had suddenly appeared, closing in on us with alarming speed. They were incredibly small—if the sensors were right, they were maybe a third to half the size of the Hammerhead.

"_Alert: power buildup detected from hostile targets. Unknown energy signature." _

"What is it?" Miranda asked.

"_Insufficient data. However, there is an 89% chance that it—"_

The ship suddenly shook.

"—_is some form of directed-energy beam weapon."_

"Taking evasive manoeuvres," Joker said.

Most of the hostiles followed us as Joker desperately jinked port and starboard. Two of them, however, broke off. No doubt they were trying to head us off. I wasn't sure whether they were under remote control or had some preprogrammed flight software.

Whatever they had, it was damn effective. "Oh come on!" Joker burst out as he had to cancel yet another evasive pattern. "Now they're just pissing me off!"

I activated the intraship comm. "Garrus?"

"_GARDIAN systems online. _**(11)**_ Targets designated," _Garrus replied.

"EDI—take these bastards out!" Joker yelled.

EDI promptly complied, shooting two of the hostiles out of the sky. Void. Whatever. Unfortunately, that still left four of them dogging our every move. Most of their shots missed, thanks to Joker and EDI. Unfortunately, they got a lucky shot every now and then. Miranda and I exchanged a look. "We'll be fine," I said.

"As long as the new plating holds," Miranda frowned. **(12)** I decided now wasn't the best time to mention she looked really cute when she did that.

The ship rocked again and again as the hostiles scored a couple more shots. "They want another round?" Joker scowled. Come on, girl, let's give it to them."

I wasn't sure whether he was talking to the Normandy or EDI. Before I could ask, Joker pulled the Normandy up. It didn't take long before I realized he was doing a looping maneuver to turn the Normandy around, probably so he could start an attack run. We arced up, reaching the zenith of the loop before flipping over and descending. To our surprise, one of the hostiles had pulled ahead of its buddies. Before anyone could react, it disappeared.

Then the ship shook.

"_Alert. Hull breach on the engineering deck."_

A hologram of the Normandy popped up, with a red reticule highlighting where the hull breach occurred. "It's in the cargo hold," Joker identified.

We couldn't afford to pull Garrus and Tali away from their duties right now, so Team Two couldn't deal with it. Not unless I sent it down short-staffed. Unfortunately, that only left one alternative. Well, two, but letting it run amok in my cargo hold didn't seem like a great idea. "Team One, meet me outside the cargo hold; we'll deal with the intruder. Joker, get the rest of them off our tail."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

* * *

><p>The intruder turned out to be a large floating sphere. It was just hovering there when we burst in, guns firing. Once we realized how thick its armour plating was, we immediately fired off a volley of biotics and high-temperature plasma. In return, the sphere swiveled around. An iris situated right in its epicenter retracted.<p>

The back of my neck tingled. "Everybody get down!" I yelled, quickly following my own advice. Just in time, too. A bright red beam lanced out from the drone, carving right through the wall.

"Preliminary analysis: enemy has stronger firepower and thus poses a greater threat than conventional hostiles," Legion announced. "Therefore, conventional tactics may have a lower probability of success. Heavier ordinance recommended."

"We'll see," I replied. "Everyone fire at will! Anyone who can deploy plasma or biotics; do that first."

The team looked at me skeptically, no doubt wondering why I didn't pull out the big guns, but complied. To everyone's surprise, including my own, we actually managed to deal quite a bit of damage. Between the seven of us, we managed to steadily chip away at the floating eyeball's armour. We'd reduced its armour to about two thirds effectiveness when it blasted another hole—I cringed—in the hull and flew out.

I opened a comm channel. "Joker: report."

"_We're sitting ducks out here. I have to try to lose them in the debris field!"_

"_Our kinetic barriers are not designed to survive impact with debris that size, Jeff," _EDI warned.

"_Then I guess it's a good thing we upgraded," _Joker replied. _"We're going in."_

We felt the effects almost immediately, as several impacts rang out, the thuds rippling underneath our feet. _"Come on," _Joker urged. _"Find some room."_

"_Kinetic barriers at 40 percent," _EDI reported.

"_Recalibrating shield rotation frequencies to match the drones," _Tali shouted.

"_Reroute non-critical power!" _Joker ordered. _"This is gonna hurt!"_

More impacts shook the Normandy. The team stumbled and fell, bouncing off the walls, crates and floor. I landed on my back. Looking up, I saw a particularly large barrel above me sway ominously. I held my breath…

"_Kinetic barriers steady at 30 percent. No significant damage," _EDI announced.

Things suddenly smoothed out and the barrel above my head stabilized. Guess we shook off all those eyeball drones—or they'd crashed trying to follow us. **(13)** We heard Joker let out a deep breath. _"Take the helm, EDI. Keep it slow. See if we can avoid any more attention."_

That peace and tranquility only lasted a couple seconds before EDI picked up something. _"I have detected an enemy heading for the cargo hold."_

"_That thing again. Shepard, this one's up to you."_

Naturally.

A loud explosion suddenly rang out. We ducked for cover as shrapnel flew everywhere. Looking up, I saw the floating eyeball swoop in again. To my dismay, it was back at full strength. To my further dismay, that was the _third goddamn hole _it had made!

"Hey!" I yelled, flinging some plasma at it. "Stop tearing up my ship!"

The rest of the team followed my cue and unleashed a barrage of ammo, biotics and plasma. The eyeball responded with a withering glare. And by that, I mean a large beam of scarlet energy that chewed its way through six or seven crates, leaving behind a deep score that meandered from the floor to the walls.

Miranda pulled me down before it could decapitate me, but not before the beam grazed my shields and drained them by half. "Shepard, we need heavy weapons to take it down!"

I checked my HUD. The armour protecting that eyeball was only down to 75% or so. As much as I hated to admit it, Miranda was right. Good ol' fashioned gunfire, plasma and biotics could whittle it down to size, but that might take a while. Plus, it increased the chances that the eyeball might take one of us down with it. Before I could say anything, though, the lights dimmed.

Looking up, I realized the lights hadn't dimmed. The eyeball had just decided to fly directly over us, flanking our position and negating our cover. "Scatter!" I yelled.

We all bolted, splitting up in twos and threes. "If anyone can do so without exposing themselves, lay down some cover fire!" I ordered, pulling out my grenade launcher as I ran. As the team fired off another round, I took advantage of the distraction to line up a shot and pull the trigger. One, two, three grenades sailed through the air and exploded right on target. The eyeball speeded away through one of the Normandy's holes, but not before I hit it with a couple more grenades. To my satisfaction, my last sensor reading of that thing, before it flew out of sight, indicated its armour had been reduced to 49% effectiveness.

Time for me to restock. I'd squirreled away a few caches of power cells here and there; souvenirs of all those missions I'd reluctantly blundered into. Running out to the nearest cache, I grabbed three power cells and loaded them into my grenade launcher. The next one, unfortunately, was on the other side of the cargo hold. I was about halfway there when Thane shouted out: "It's back!"

If I needed a hint to what 'it' was, the tingling at the back of my neck, the impact of the beam as it chewed up the rest of my shields and the sharp pain as it started cooking me inside my hardsuit clued me in. I was actually starting to get dizzy for a moment when the beam abruptly shut off.

I hightailed it to the next cache to grab some more power cells—and some medi-gel from a nearby med-station for good measure—while the team hit it with bullets, tricks and foul language. Guess the barrage of gunfire distracted that thing from finishing me off. Running back towards the squad, I paid the eyeball back for all the damage it had done with a dose of plasma and a couple grenades. Skidding to a halt at the next cache, I scooped up the power cells and kept on going, loading them on the run.

Hiding behind a crate, I stopped to check my HUD. The eyeball blew my hiding spot to pieces and damaged my shields, but not before I could tell that its armour had been reduced to about 5%. A hail of gunfire sent it fleeing away once more.

"The enemy is heavily damaged. We are on the verge of vanquishing it once and for all," Samara declared.

"When it comes back, keep it busy, but try not to destroy it!" I ordered.

"Shep, now's really not the time to add that thing to your collection," Kasumi scolded.

"I'm more worried about something that can carve through starship-grade armour blowing up in the cargo hold," I replied. "While we're inside."

The squad looked at each other and winced. Even Grunt didn't seem to relish the thought of a fiery death, probably because it would mean he wouldn't get to face any more battles against the Collectors. For once, he seemed to be learning. I felt so proud.

"Shepard!" Miranda warned.

The eyeball was back. Following my orders, the team opened fire, but without nearly as much fervor as before. Bit by bit, we chipped away at the eyeball's armour. But it was still there, floating around, trying to rain fire on us. Literally at times, as it kept trying to hover over teammates, forcing them to sprint for a fresh piece of cover. Why wouldn't it go away? It was damaged enough. I just needed it to fly away. I heard a cry of pain—Thane, I think—and gritted my teeth. Just a little bit longer…

At last, the eyeball flew towards one of the holes. My finger tightened on the grenade launcher.

Then it turned back and fired another sizzling beam at us. "Oh come on!" I cried out. "Just go already!"

To my surprise, the eyeball stopped firing. It paused for a moment, then started to drop out of sight. Whirling around, I lobbed a grenade after it. Then I held my breath. If I had timed things right…

A bright flash of light streamed through the hole, seconds before the ship shook. It had worked: thanks to some careful timing, my grenade had blown up the eyeball—outside the ship.

"I imagine it'll stay dead this time," Miranda said dryly.

"Yes, I imagine that too," I replied.

"_Now that you're done making a mess of the cargo hold, you better get back up here, Commander," _Joker called out. Guess he and EDI had been watching the whole thing through the vid-cams. _"We're about to clear the debris field."_

"Be right there, Joker." Looking around, I saw that the team—even Thane—was okay. "Everyone, return to your posts."

* * *

><p>The Normandy was navigating through the last bits of the debris field as Miranda and I got out of the elevator. By the time we reached the cockpit, Joker was in the process of guiding her between two particularly large derelict vessels.<p>

"There it is," Miranda said softly. "The Collector base."

A bit obvious, but understandable given how we were finally setting eyes on the home base that we'd been preparing for almost a year to hit. And boy was it a big one: roughly as large as the space station that the geth heretics had been camping in, only much more cylindrical. That isn't to say it was a perfectly uniform. The surface was dotted with protrusions, large cylindrical rings, and a myriad of twinkling lights. The bottom had mud-like, bumpy plates that looked a bit organic. In short: a hybrid fusion of technological and organic. Just like the Collectors. Heck, now that I had the opportunity to take a good look at it, it looked like a giant version of the Collector ship that we'd faced three times now.

"See if you can find a place to land without drawing attention," I said.

Joker started to nod before he glanced at the sensor display. "Too late. Looks like they're sending out an old friend to greet us."

I accessed one of the exterior vid-cams on a separate monitor and zoomed in using the sensor feeds. A long metallic cylinder was slowly extending out of the Collector base. Spires and braces, bracketing a concentric ring at one end. As it continued to protrude outwards, we saw large mud-like, bumpy plates overlap the metal plates like a coat of hardened resin over an exoskeleton.

It was the Collector ship. The one that blew up the original Normandy and killed twenty-one men and women—twenty-two if you include me—without suffering so much as a scratch. The one that had been abducting colonists left, right and centre while everyone else was helpless—or too apathetic—to intervene. The one that had been supposedly disabled and almost blew us up when TIMmy sent us in poking around. This time, we couldn't drive it away or run away. This time, we had to stay and fight.

The Collector ship finally cleared its moorings, like an egg being laid by a giant techno-organic queen. A Slowly, inexorably, it turned around to face us, like Goliath facing David. A menacing, yellow light burned from its organic bow as it turned, growing and pulsing in intensity. With a flare of the engines, the ship slowly moved towards us. The yellow fire dimmed briefly before spitting out, crackling across the void. Joker's fingers were already flying as he coaxed the Normandy to dip just underneath the Collector ship's beam.

A cold smile spread over my face. "Time to show our new teeth," I declared. "Fire the main guns."

The status display next to me showed the cannon bay doors opening up along the keel of the Normandy, allowing the twin Thanix cannons to extend into position. A couple seconds later, twin beams of blinding blue brilliance lanced out, piercing the oppressive void. Surprisingly, we didn't feel any of the recoil that you'd typically experience when firing such a powerful weapon. That left us with nothing to do but hold our breath as the superheated molten metal flew towards the Collector ship, hit it...

...tore right through the ship's carapace-like armour and caused at least one or two fiery explosions! A chorus of whoops and cheers rang throughout the cockpit. The invincible leviathan that had been dogging our steps for almost three years was finally wounded! "How do you like that, you sons-of-bitches?" Joker crowed, pumping the air with his fists.

"Get in close and finish them off!" I cried, the taste of first blood still fresh in my mouth.

"Everybody hold on," Joker howled. "It's gonna be a wild ride!"

The Normandy swept towards the Collector ship, dancing back and forth. Again and again, it fired at us, sending energy beams sweeping through space. Shuttles and frigates were reduced to molten scrap in its attempt to lock onto us. But every time, it was just a couple seconds too late.

Darting around yet another energy beam, Joker set the Normandy on an attack run. "Give 'em hell, girl!" he yelled, slamming the console. The Thanix cannons took a couple seconds to charge up before firing another two shots. Once again, they illuminated the harsh light as they seared through the empty space, hit the Collector ship, burrowed right through it—and out the other side! Joker altered the Normandy's vector ever-so-slightly, causing the Thanix cannons to move along the Collector ship, slicing through it like a hot knife through butter. Explosion after explosion rippled along its hull in quick succession.

"Look out!" Miranda shouted. The Normandy was now within spitting distance of the Collector ship, which was quickly dying a fiery death. Joker banked the Normandy to starboard to get her away from the Collector ship before it blew. A second later, a pair of nova-like eruptions spilled out as the entire Collector ship exploded into smithereens. The energy waves from those explosions washed over us, rocking the Normandy.

A blinking light—and a loud alarm—drew my attention to one of the monitors. "Miranda, what's that?"

"Shepard, do you see that?" Miranda asked at the same time.

"Is that the readout from the mass effect field generators?"

"It does look like—" Miranda started.

"Did that explosion just knock out the mass effect field generators?" I asked.

The ship shook. We turned and looked out the viewscreen, which was rapidly being filled up by the Collector base as we approached it at terminal velocity. Way too fast for any kind of docking or landing. "Looks like," Miranda said in dismay.

"I thought they couldn't be disabled that easily," I insisted as Joker tried to slow us down with the emergency thrusters. They didn't make any appreciable difference.

"They can't. Well, they shouldn't," Miranda frowned. "I have a very good memory for that sort of—"

"Yeah, well," Joker interrupted, "if EDI can't get the mass effect generators back online to control our velocity, this landing is gonna get pretty interesting."

"Define 'interesting'," I requested.

"Oh god, oh god, we're all gonna die?"

With a certain numbness and detachment, I reached over and activated the intraship comm. "This is Shepard. We have a little problem with our approach sequence, so we may experience some slight turbulence and then... explode. Joker," I asked after turning the comm off, "can you shave our vector?"

"I'm doing that!" Joker snapped. "It's not enough!"

"Well, just get us onto the station," I said.

"That part'll happen pretty—"

His words cut off as the Normandy hit the Collector base at full speed.

* * *

><p><em>(1): <em>_It's ironic that Shepard would not take his own advice. _

_(2): One of those matters involved apologizing to Joker for being unnecessarily critical of Joker's actions while the squad was away, an act that may have resulted from Shepard's influence. The other matter would be revealed later on._

_(3): It is rare that a commanding officer would ask his subordinates such questions, for fear of adversely affecting the overall morale of the crew. The fact that Shepard was willing to offer such a rare and vulnerable glimpse into his concerns, albeit with a select number of people, shows the level of trust he had in his crew. _

_(4): A common symptom accompanying an allergic reaction, one that many species encounter._

_(5): Despite their origins and original motivations, Shepard held the same loyalty to the people he worked with that he inspired in them. _

_(6): This open and honest exchange between Shepard and Lawson is particularly notable for how rare it was—for both of them. _

_(7): (Don't Fear) the Reaper, released by the Blue Oyster Cult in 1976. Readers may recall that Shepard also played this song on his journey to Ilos during his first mission as a Spectre._

_(8): Shepard's opinions aside, the Illusive Man was right on one point: Shepard was a great representative and advocate of the best humanity had to offer._

_(9): Some speculate that the Omega 4 relay was created or installed in place after the rest of the mass relay network, citing factors such as the unique colours Shepard observed._

_(10): __Normally, Shepard would not be able to visually see the black hole, as it would absorb all frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum, including the visual spectra. What Shepard describes is the result of computer-assisted imagery._

_(11): An acronym for General ARea Defence Integration Anti-spacecraft Network, a computer-controlled system of anti-missile and anti-fighter laser turrets placed on the exterior hull of ships for point defence. The tendency of laser fire to diffract or spread out causes the energy density to dissipate. Furthermore, as the GARDIAN lasers continue to fire, heat will build up, forcing the lasers to pause for longer and longer intervals as the heat is transferred to sinks or radiators. As a result, the GARDIAN system is best suited for short-range, short-term defence._

_(12): The intensity and power of energy weapons is typically strong enough to penetrate kinetic barriers. As mentioned earlier, such an advantage is overshadowed by the dissipation and heat buildup issues associated with such weapons._

_(13): Shepard would later designate these drones as 'Oculus drones' in his official report._


	39. Into the Hornet's Nest

**Chapter 25: Into the Hornet's Nest**

I wasn't sure how long it went on. Rather than plowing into—or through—the Collector base, the Normandy had bounced once or twice over its hull instead. Almost like a skipping stone over water. Only this stone had to belly-flop onto the hull and skid across it, sending up a storm of sparks with every jarring bounce and painful rattle. And the shrieking of tortured metal was so loud and piercing. We all stumbled and fell, careening off the walls and floors—again, in the case of me and Miranda. It's entirely possible that my poor oft-abused brain just went on strike until things settled down.

Because, yes, things did settle down. After what seemed like forever, the Normandy slowly came to a shuddering stop. I carefully picked myself up, wincing in pain. Sparks spat out from various computers, which flickered on and off. I turned towards Miranda. She was already on her hands and knees, and waved me off. Turning towards Joker, I saw he was slumped over the armrest. "Joker?"

To my relief, I saw him stir. "Joker," I repeated. "You okay?"

Clutching his side, he slowly righted himself. "I think I broke a rib," he groaned. "Or all of them."

"_Multiple core systems overloaded during the crash," _EDI reported. _"Restoring operations will take time."_

Right. Because this was the perfect place to sit back and take your time while making repairs. This was just great. We were forced into this suicide mission with a skeleton crew, barely escaped a premature end by crashing the Normandy into another ship, fought through a flock of eyeballs, finally blew up the Collector ship, only to crash and be crippled on the doorsteps of the Collector base. Just once, couldn't things go well from start to finish? Is that too much to ask?

Miranda and I exchanged a look. "We all knew this was likely a one-way trip," she sighed in dismay.

I conceded her point with a nod. Aloud, I said "It ain't over 'till the fat lady sings, Miranda. I'll do whatever it takes to stop the Collectors, but I plan to live to tell about it."

Joker chuckled. "I'm glad you're in charge. What's our next step?"

"First things first," I declared. "How long until the Collectors find this—" I caught myself just before calling it a 'crash zone.' "This landing zone?" I finished.

"_I do not detect an internal security network," _EDI said. _It is possible the Collectors did not expect anyone to actually reach the base."_

"And, if we're lucky, their external sensors were hit like we were," Joker suggested. "They might not know we're alive."

Could it be? Could the universe finally be throwing me a bone? If so... "Then let's make the most of it," I said. "Joker, get the ship back online. EDI, start scanning the base. When you're done that, help Joker out. Miranda, gather everyone else in the comm room.

"We need a plan."

* * *

><p>I spent some time in the armoury looking over the various weapons I'd collected. Most of the choices were already made. The main question was: which heavy weapon to take with me. Should I take the grenade launcher, an old standby that had been remarkably effective and reliable? Maybe the missile launcher, with its arsenal of homing missiles? Or perhaps the Collector particle beam weapon, to fight fire with fire?<p>

After some deliberation, I made my choice. Slotting it on my back, I scooped up the explosives Jacob had prepped earlier and headed for the comm room. The rest of the squad was already there, fully suited up. They looked up as I entered, clearly finishing off their calibrations and sighting of their weapons. I went to the head of the table, alternatively nodding at squadmates or patting them on the shoulders as I passed them.

"They say that any landing you can walk away from is a good one," I started. "By those standards, we're off to a great start." There were a couple rueful chuckles at that. "Seriously, this isn't how we planned this mission. But, like it or not, this is where we're at. We can't worry about whether the Normandy can get us home. It's out of our hands. What we can do is what we came here to do: to stop the Collectors. That means coming up with a plan to take out this station.

"EDI, bring up your scans."

A holographic schematic of the Collector base shimmered into view over the table. _"You should be able to overload their critical systems if you get to the main control centre here." _An arrow popped up and moved to highlight the control centre.

Jacob was looking at the schematic through his omni-tool, zooming in on various sections. "That means going through the heart of the station," he said at last. "Right past this massive energy signature."

"Looks like some sort of central chamber," I observed. "If our crew or any of the colonists are still alive, the Collectors are probably holding them in there."

"Assumes Collector architecture similar to human, but logic sound," Mordin agreed. "Volume of abductions requires large storage space. Central chamber best suited for that purpose."

"Looks like there are two main routes," Jacob reported. "Might be a good idea to split up to keep the Collectors off balance." Using his omni-tool, he brought up two more arrows that started running up the routes. "Then we can regroup in the central chamber," he continued, as the arrows merged together.

Miranda shook her head. "No good. Both routes are blocked. See those doors? The only way past is to get someone to open them from the other side."

I saw a couple shoulders slump. "Hold on," I protested. "It's a good plan so far. It just hit a snag, that's all. This isn't a fortress; there's got to be something." I looked over the schematic closely. All we needed was—bingo! I tapped my own omni-tool to bring up another arrow. "Look at this. Maybe we can send someone in through this ventilation shaft here."

"Practically a suicide mission," Jacob said with relish. "I volunteer."

Miranda looked at Jacob. I wasn't sure whether the amused look Miranda shot at Jacob was over calling _that_ job a suicide mission instead of this whole debacle, or how he was offering to throw himself in harm's way again. Or both. "I appreciate the thought, Jacob," she told him gently, "but you couldn't shut down the security systems in time. We need to send a tech expert."

She was right, of course. Whoever we sent to go squirming through the ventilation shaft and open the doors for us would have to be well-versed in hacking techniques, not to mention flexible enough to adapt to hacking a relatively unknown system. That narrowed things down to Kasumi, Tali or Legion.

I took another look at the ventilation shaft. Something about it was bugging me. But what... wait a sec. "EDI, is that ventilation shaft connected to the heat exhaust?"

"_Yes."_

"How hot would it be in there?"

"_Temperatures appear to fluctuate. However, the lowest temperature recorded thus far is approximately 375 degrees Kelvin."_

That was... um...

"101.85 degrees Celsius or 215.33 degrees Fahrenheit," Miranda translated.

Ooh. That was hot. "Thanks," I nodded. "Those temperatures would cook any organic. Thankfully, we have a synthetic onboard—one who can hack through anything. Legion, I'm sending you into the shaft."

Legion adjusted his assault rifle. "Acknowledged," they replied. "Be advised: the heat sinks installed in this platform are not optimized for such extreme temperatures."

"Then you'd better not dilly-dally around," I said. "While Legion goes through the shaft, the rest of us will break into teams and fight down each passage. Team One takes the left shaft, with me as team leader and Miranda as assistant team leader. Team Two gets the right shaft; Garrus and Jacob as team leader and assistant team leader, respectively. That should draw the Collectors' attention away from what Legion's doing."

"Sounds good, Shepard," Garrus agreed. "Try not to waste time sightseeing."

I let everyone have their laughs before I got to the serious stuff. "I don't know what we're going to find in there, but I won't lie to you: it's not going to be easy. We've lost a lot of innocent people already. Good people. We may lose more.

"We don't know how many the Collectors have abducted already—hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands—nor do we know what they're doing with them. You know what, though? It's not important. We can't change that. We can't do anything about that. What matters is this: _Not. One. More._ That's what we can do. That's what we can change. We have the chance to make a difference. Here. Today. It ends with us. They want to know what we're made of? I say we show them—on our terms.

"Gear up, everyone. It's time to bring our people home."

* * *

><p>Normally, I land on the surfaces of planets or objects using a shuttle. You know, something that has a ramp or is only twenty or thirty centimetres or so above to the ground. The Normandy, however, had no ramp and was a bit higher. And by 'a bit higher,' I mean two or three metres. So we had to hop down before splitting up into teams—with the exception of Legion, who, aside from their 1,183 runtimes, was all alone. Thankfully, none of us sprained an ankle hopping down. This mission had had enough unexpected snafus as it was.<p>

Following the schematic that everyone had downloaded to their hardsuit computers, we found access points to our designated routes. It wasn't long before Team One had found themselves in a gloomy corridor. It was just like the Collector ship—rocky, cavernous tunnels with misshapen, irregular walls. Yellow lights on the walls arranged in what looked like a random, alien pattern—except for the ceiling. The lights up there looked like a cluster of eggs caught in a honeycomb net. Only a few metal columns were present to remind us that we were in a space station.

I paused a minute for everyone to activate any last minute mods before opening a comm channel. "Legion; report."

"_We are in position. Exterior temperature slightly elevated. No obstructions detected."_

"Understood," I replied. "Team Two—are you in position?"

"_In position," _Garrus confirmed. _"Meet you on the other side of those doors."_

"Weapons free," I said. "Good luck, everyone."

I led the team along the corridor and around a couple corners, passing a desiccated humanoid body along the way. We had just reached a large chamber—too small to be the central chamber, but still quite sizeable—one with lots of metal columns and embankments surrounding a couple hexagonal platforms. My neck started to tingle just before a chittering sound echoed out.

Without thinking, I activated my cloak, grabbed my sniper rifle and swept towards the chamber. One well-placed shot sent a Collector drone toppling to the ground. Miranda, Thane and Grunt ganged up on another drone, overwhelming it with their biotics and concussive rounds.

Team Two came in over the comm. _"Garrus here. We're taking heavy fire, but we're moving forward."_

"Likewise," I called back.

"Shepard!" Samara warned. "Reinforcements coming towards us!" Sure enough, three more drones were flying in. Focusing on one of the drones, she used her biotics to rip its barriers to shreds. Kasumi waited until the trio landed before detonating a flash bang grenade at their feet—and her shields paid the price. Taking advantage of their disorientation, I ordered the team to focus on the drone Samara had weakened while I tried to flank them. Unfortunately, I had only taken a couple steps before another drone stepped into view—guess it had the same idea. Fortunately, I already had my sniper rifle in hand and my cloak engaged. At the moment, one drone was as good as another.

Looking back, I saw that the team had dealt with the drone I'd designated _and _another hapless sucker. That just left two more drones. One of them was pinned down. The other one was in the process of levitating off the ground, courtesy of Samara. It had just enough time to let out another round of chittering before Grunt hit it with a concussive round, sending it flying off the platform. Miranda and I finished off the last drone with a tandem attack of biotics and plasma.

"Good thing we weren't banking on the element of surprise," Kasumi puffed, her shields finally regenerating. "Now what?"

"_Pathing failure. There is an obstruction in the tunnel."_

"Well, there's that," I offered. A few seconds of searching revealed an exit to the chamber, one that connected into a corridor. Running parallel to the corridor was a large tube-like tunnel—the ventilation shaft I'd sent Legion into. Leading the team towards the corridor and shaft, I saw Legion standing there. As they had said, there was a gate of some sort that was closed, preventing Legion from advancing any further.

"There, over by the ventilation shaft," Miranda said. "See that control panel? Looks like some kind of heat exchanger or valve."

I sure did. A big honking hexagonal holographic interface. "Hopefully it'll open the gate," I said, coming to a halt in front of it. Now, how to open it? There was only one button that I could see. Well, nothing ventured... I reached out and tapped the button.

With a gentle hiss, the gate opened. _"Obstruction removed," _Legion told us. _"Proceeding."_

We moved on as well, skirting another pair of dried-up bodies. It didn't take long before we bumped into another trio of Collector drones. The first one went down pretty quickly. The next one—

"I am assuming direct control."

Oh look. I was wondering when Harbinger would join the party. "Thane, Grunt—take out the other Collector," I called out. "Everyone else, focus on Harbinger."

Naturally, Thane and Grunt had the easy task. Dealing with Harbinger without getting bowled over by its attacks? That took a little more work. Miranda, Kasumi and Samara started to soften him up with a combo of gunfire and biotics.

"_The path is blocked again. You must find another valve."_

"Hang on, Legion," I replied, activating my cloak again. Raising my sniper rifle, I fired a shot right through its bulbous head. As I moved to open the next valve, the Collector Harbinger had possessed turned to ash.

"Look! Overhead!" Thane called out.

Another trio of Collectors, one of which was already in the midst of transforming into Harbinger. I quickly selected targets with my HUD before firing a burst of plasma at one of the Collector drones. That drone's barriers had already been obliterated thanks to Miranda, which meant it crashed to the ground in a fiery pulp. The other drone was knocked out of the sky by Thane, Samara and Grunt.

Just as we started attacking Harbinger, Legion contacted us again. _"Another obstacle impeding progress. I am unable to continue without your assistance, Shepard-Commander."_

Again? "Understood. Standby," I replied before checking my HUD. Looked like no one else was coming to join the party, which meant we got to gang up on Harbinger. Almost seemed unfair. By this point, Kasumi had reduced Harbinger's barriers to about half-strength through sheer determination and gunfire. In retaliation, Harbinger sent a biotic blast that knocked her on her ass.

"I know you feel this," Harbinger rumbled.

"Kasumi?" I called out. "You hurt?"

"Just my pride, Shep. Harbinger's all talk." Kasumi rolled to her knees and winced. "Mostly talk," she amended. "Oh, that's gonna leave a bruise."

Phew. I checked my HUD again. "Okay, people," I decided, "Miranda and Grunt are up, followed by Thane and I. Then it's a team effort the rest of the way. Ready?" I got several nods. "Go!"

Miranda and Grunt made short work of Harbinger's barriers, then Thane and I hammered its armour. A steady stream of bullets finished it off. Then I ran over and opened the third valve. _"Path is clear," _Legion told us. _"Moving on."_

Before I continued, I thought it was time to check in with Team Two: "Garrus?"

"_Making good progress. Couple minor injuries, but nothing that a bit of medi-gel couldn't fix. You?"_

"Same, despite running into the odd bunch of Collectors," I replied. "Including Harbinger."

"You too?"

"Yeah. Harbinger really gets around. Meet you at the rendezvous."

"_Understood."_

Legion only managed to travel another hundred metres or so before bumping into another valve. To my surprise, Team One didn't run into any opposition along the way and actually beat them to the valve. After opening the valve, we headed along another cavern-and-metal corridor and around the corner. Just as I was glimpsing another large chamber, two things happened. First, Garrus contacted us again: _"We're in position, Shepard. Just waiting for the doors to open." _Second, I heard some chittering. Peeking around the corner, I saw at least three Collectors.

"Assuming control."

Plus Harbinger. Aw, crap.

Once again, Miranda and I took out one of the Collectors while Thane, Grunt and Samara tackled another. Now that I had a chance to look, though, that still left us three more Collector drones. And Harbinger.

"Your form is fragile."

Yeesh, Harbinger was feeling awfully chatty today. I tried to find another target, but had to duck before Harbinger's biotic onslaught took my head clean off. Could things get any better?

"_The path is blocked again. You must locate another valve."_

There you go. Checking my HUD to see where everyone was—and where all the bad guys were—I selected targets. Within a minute, we'd taken out two more Collectors and dealt some serious damage to Harbinger. It wasn't all smooth sailing, though—Harbinger sent another biotic volley that hit Grunt right in the kisser. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but he was already a bit off-balance leaning out of cover to fire a concussive round. The biotic attack was enough to bowl Grunt over—right on top of Miranda.

Hoping that Miranda's suit would be able to handle such an extreme weight, I turned my attention back to Harbinger. By the time my omni-tool had cooked up some more plasma, Harbinger's barriers were gone. I let loose another fireball before pulling out my sniper rifle again. "Split your fire," I ordered before firing a shot. Without the help of my cloak, my shot didn't have enough velocity to kill Harbinger. Thankfully, it had taken so much damage; it didn't take many more shots to finish it off. Now we just had to finish that last drone before Harbinger possessed it.

As it turned out, Harbinger didn't possess it. It possessed one of the three new Collector drones who came swooping in.

"_Alert: temperature rising."_

I tapped into Legion's sensor feeds. The heat sinks were at 20% capacity. Not to be callous, but I think Legion could afford to wait a little while we dealt with the latest batch of bad guys. Once again, a combo of biotics, plasma and concussive rounds took out Harbinger's buddies while Kasumi had the dubious honour of getting first crack at Harbinger.

"_Temperature rising to dangerous levels."_

A quick check reassured me that Legion's heat sinks were at 33%. I tried to fire a shot at Harbinger, but a stupid pylon was standing right between us. Thankfully, the other teammates didn't have that problem. As I watched, they quickly whittled down Harbinger's barriers. I waited until they collapsed before launching a fireball. It landed just about the same time as Miranda's biotic attack.

"_Temperature rising. Circuits on the verge of failure."_

Heat sinks at about 55%. I waited until my omni-tool recharged, barbequed Harbinger and ran for the valve. Slapping the control, I moved on. Over the comm, Legion informed us that they were able to proceed once more.

It was smooth sailing for another minute. No bad guys. No Harbinger. Found another valve and activated it without any trouble. Ran into three more Collector drones, but managed to take them out before any of them went all Harbinger on us.

The team ran down the tunnel, which quickly led to a dead-end. Thankfully, there was a large opening to our right. Climbing through the tunnel, we were greeted by two more Collectors—one of whom was carrying a particle beam weapon. By this point, everyone had readied fresh biotic attacks, charged up more plasma or loaded additional concussive rounds, so the fight was actually over before it really started.

"_The route is blocked once more. Waiting for you to clear the path."_

"Shepard! Reinforcements coming towards us!"

Six more Collector drones. Plenty of cover—for us and them. And two more valves. I motioned for the team to head for the cover next to the closest valve before opening a comm channel. "I read you, Legion, but we've got company. Hold on for now."

The way I saw it, this was the best possible spot for us. We could hold out for a while, taking out Collectors. And if things got really bad for Legion, I could always open the valve and let Legion head to the next gate. Whereas if I opened the valve now, there was no guarantee that I could reach the next valve in time.

While I was chatting, the team had eliminated a Collector and injured two more. I aimed my omni-tool at one of the injured ones, only to see it lift off its feet and glow. Thinking fast, I switched targets and took out the other drone. Meanwhile, the team was keeping an eye on Harbinger, but focusing on any other target that Harbinger might want to possess in the near future. One by one, the drones dropped like flies.

"You prolong the inevitable," Harbinger said as another two Collectors touched down. One of them was just raising its weapon when Team One mowed it down.

"_Systems cannot withstand this kind of temperature for long, Shepard-Commander."_

Team One wasn't in a great position either—at some point, Thane had taken a hit. From the look of things, it seemed like he'd fallen down and hit his head. A quick scan of his bio-readings indicated that he didn't have a concussion, but he was certainly disoriented and wouldn't be fighting any time soon. I made a quick assessment of the battlefield. Legion's heat sinks were swimming at 60%. Harbinger had lost its barriers. The last Collector drone hadn't taken any damage. "Miranda, you and I get the last drone. Everyone else—focus on Harbinger."

Miranda's biotics quickly stripped the drone of its barriers. Unfortunately, it ducked just as my fireball hit it, so it didn't burn to a crispy critter. "Grunt, kindly put that drone out of its misery."

Grunt quickly swivelled on the spot, blew it away with a concussive round, then turned his attention back to Harbinger. The team opened fire on the glowing sucker, blowing holes in its armour. All five of us.

Wait. Five? Where was Kasumi?

A shimmering flicker gave the answer just before Kasumi decloaked and delivered a massive jolt into Harbinger's back. "Do you feel this?" she asked innocently. Harbinger didn't respond, too busy flailing and disintegrating into ash. Giving Kasumi a complimentary nod for her risky but well-timed move, I jogged over and opened the next valve.

"_Proceeding. Anticipate we are nearing the end."_

No kidding. We trotted to the last valve, keeping an eye out for Collectors. Nothing. Even had a chance to scoop up a spare thermal clip. Looking ahead, I could see a large door off in the distance. I reached out to activate the last valve...

"Collector drones incoming!"

I whirled on the spot, hand reaching back towards the last valve. Oh yeah. There were drones. Lots of them. I quickly tapped open the last valve and ran for the door. The team followed me in a reverse leapfrog maneuver, with half of the team laying down cover fire while the other half retreated to another location. Reaching the door, I knocked on the door. "Open sesame!" **(1)**

"_Look out! Seeker swarms!" _I heard Garrus yell over a burst of gunfire. Guess they were facing trouble. Well, so were we. Every one of us had taken serious damage to our shields. Samara was actually hiding behind what could laughingly be called cover, eyes closed as she tried to regenerate her barriers through sheer force of will. "We're in position, Legion," I told them. "Would you kindly open the doors? Now?!"

"_Go," _we heard Garrus call out. _"We'll cover you!"_

Miranda and I took out one Collector. The others took out another. That left four more Collector drones, another drone with one of those particle beam weapons, Harbinger and—oh boy—reinforcements in the form of three more drones. "Legion!" I yelled.

"_The door has malfunctioned. Path blocked. Please standby."_

Aw, crap. Without any other choice, we huddled by what little cover we could find and fired back at the Collectors. The fact that we took out another drone was small consolation. They still outnumbered us. Plus, Harbinger was confidently strolling towards us, eschewing any form of cover. The glowing ass knew we couldn't afford to split fire between it and its goons. Plus, if we destroyed Harbinger's current avatar, it could just as easily find a new one. This was not going well.

"_Complete," _Legion suddenly announced, just as the doors opened. Sweetest sound I'd ever heard. "Team Two, we're coming in hot! Team One, fall back!" I yelled.

Bolting through, I saw that the door Team Two had gone through had closed. At least we wouldn't have to worry about getting attacked on two fronts. We just had to deal with the Collectors chasing us—who had doubled in strength if that was possible. Team One stumbled behind me as Team Two assumed firing positions. "Suppressing fire!" Garrus hollered. "Don't let anyone through that door!"

Drone after drone fell under the combined might of my squad. I managed to take out Harbinger myself with my trusty Widow sniper rifle. Still, the Collectors were steadily advancing. Each time a drone fell, it was closer and closer to the doors. Just as I thought things were going to get really bad...

...the doors sealed shut. Phew. "Nice work, Legion," I panted. "I knew I could count on you."

Legion was busy locking out the door controls so no one could get in, but spared a moment to acknowledge my compliments with a nod.

"Shepard?" Miranda called out. "You need to see this."

* * *

><p>I turned away from the doors and walked towards Miranda. As the squad followed, my eyes took in the chamber we were in. It was the most... artificial and technological chamber I'd seen so far. Long vertical metal beams and plates covered the walls. Only the gold stasis pods bulging from the walls suggested that this was the work of Collectors.<p>

And the size! It was enormous! Like that room on the Collector ship, the one that housed thousands of stasis pods, it seemed to go on forever. My eyes looked up, trying to see how tall this room was. It was at that point that I noticed three things. First, there were a lot more pods than I'd realized. They weren't as clustered as they were on the Collector ship, but there were definitely just as many pods, if not more. Second, the vast majority of those pods were empty—which begged the question of where they went. That brings me to my third observation: the pipes. Large tubes extended from the walls in huge bundles, stretching across the chamber. And every single stasis pod was connected to at least one of those pipes.

I'm sure Miranda had seen all that as well, but that wasn't what occupied her immediate attention. No, she was waiting by one of the stasis pods. A woman was inside. Brunette. **(2)** Asleep. And her outfit...

"Looks like one of the missing colonists," Miranda said.

"There's more," Mordin called out. "From the Normandy. Over here." I glanced over. To my delight, he was right. Looked like everyone who was abducted from the Normandy was right here!

Turning back, I spotted something new. I bent down to take a closer look. It looked like some kind of mist or gas was spilling into the first stasis pod that Miranda had found. Rising to my feet, I saw that the woman's face had suddenly developed red patches. At first, I thought it was like the red scars I'd had when I first woken up almost a year ago. But no, this was more like flesh. Like patches of skin had fallen off.

Then the woman opened her eyes. She blinked rapidly, the confusion on her face rapidly turning to horror. A look that was probably similar to the one on my face. "My god! She's still alive!"

As I watched, more and more skin sloughed off. The exposed flesh quickly decayed, turning from a bright, crimson red to a dark, necrotic black. The woman desperately started slamming on the pod's lid with her bloody fists. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. I struggled to open the lid, but I couldn't. I couldn't help her. The damn lid was sealed shut! I couldn't help her!

Helplessly, I stared at the woman, who now looked more like a burned corpse. Only this corpse was still alive, larger and larger chunks of dead flesh falling off her frame, slamming against the lid in a futile effort to get out. She finally succumbed and slumped to the bottom of the pod, leaving a trail of bloody smears on the lid. As I watched in horror, she quickly started shrinking—no, dissolving!—into a grey slurry that drained out through vents at the bottom of the pod.

"Get them out of there!" I yelled, whirling towards the squad. "Hurry!"

I gave the woman a last apologetic nod, though she was far beyond the point where she could have seen or acknowledged it, before running for another pod. The squad was already struggling to get the other men and women out. I passed Jacob, who was hitting one of the pod latches with the butt of his shotgun. Kasumi and Tali were working together to pry a pod open, so I went to the next one and pulled. To my relief, this one opened—maybe the pod seals engaged when that mist thing was spilling in, to prevent any of it from leaking out. All I knew was that Goldstein was falling into my arms, still unconscious. I gently lowered him to the ground and sprinted towards another pod. Jack and Samara were using their biotics to crack open a couple pods. I cracked another pod using ol' fashioned muscles and sweat, pulled Patel from its confines and moved on. Grunt was busy ripping lids off two at a time. I pulled out Matthews and continued on my way, dodging Thane as he carefully extricated a slumbering Kelly. Miranda was at... the last pod? Oh thank god. Running over, I helped her open the pod and caught the woman inside. "Doctor Chakwas?" I said. "Are you okay? Doctor Chakwas?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my crewmates wake up. Some of them were stumbling to their feet, still groggy and disoriented. "Shepard?" I focused on Dr. Chakwas, who'd woken up by this point. "You... you came for us," she whispered.

"No one gets left behind," I replied simply. Extending a hand, I helped Dr. Chakwas to her feet.

"Thank god you got here in time," Kelly babbled. "A few more seconds and... I don't even want to think about it."

She was right, I realized. By some cruel roll of the dice, the only people we'd saved were the crew of the Normandy. We were too late to rescue anyone else. "I can't imagine what..." I stopped myself before I could finish such a tired cliché.

"The colonists were... processed," Dr. Chakwas said slowly, her eyes filled with shock and horror. "Swarms of little robots, spilling into each pod one by one in a horrible mist. They... they melted their bodies into this grey liquid and pumped it through those tubes."

I glanced up at the tubes running near the ceiling, the ones I'd seen earlier. It was all I could do to suppress a shudder. _That's_ what those things were for. "Why are they doing this?" I asked. "What are they doing with our bodies?"

"Perhaps that goo is some form of raw genetic material?" Miranda speculated. "Though that still doesn't explain what the Collectors need it for."

"I don't know myself," Dr. Chakwas confessed. "I'm just glad you got here before it happened to us."

"So are we," Miranda replied, surprising everyone—except, perhaps, me—with the warmth in her voice. "But we still have a job to do." She looked around at everybody. "We've done well so far. Let's hope we can finish the job."

I activated the comm again. "Joker? Can you get a fix on our position?"

"_Roger that, Commander. And we've been monitoring your communications as well. All those tubes lead into the main control room right above you. The route is blocked by a security door, but there's another chamber that runs parallel to the one you're in."_

"_I cannot recommend that," _EDI put in. _"Thermal emissions suggest the chamber is overrun with seeker swarms. Mordin's countermeasure cannot protect you against so many at once."_

I looked at Mordin, who confirmed EDI's assessment with a silent shake of his head. "What about biotics?" I asked. "Could we create a biotic field to keep them from getting near us?"

"Yes..." Samara said slowly, "I think it may be possible. I wouldn't be able to protect everyone, but we might be able to get a small team through if they stayed close."

"I could do it, too," Miranda added. "In theory, any biotic could handle it."

Miranda was standing right next to me, which made it easier to murmur my next question instead of asking it out loud where everyone could hear: "Who would be best suited to maintain a field like that? Honestly." Miranda bit her lip for a moment before quietly replying "Samara... or Jack."

I knew it took a lot for Miranda to admit that, so I didn't bother asking her again. "Samara and I will take Team One through the seeker swarms," I decided, both to maintain team cohesion and to avoid adding insult to injury. Besides, Team Two might need a biotic of Jack's caliber if they ran into a similar concentration of seeker swarms. Speaking of which: "Team Two; provide a diversion by going through the main passage. We'll open the security doors from the other side and meet you there."

"Sounds good," Garrus agreed. "We'll keep the defenders busy while you slip around the back."

Dr. Chakwas coughed to get our attention. "What about me and the rest of the crew, Shepard? We're in no shape to fight."

"Didn't expect you to fight," I reassured her. "Joker?"

"_Still listening, Commander," _Joker replied. _"We have enough systems back online to do a pickup, but we'd need to land at least ten klicks back from your position. Any other site won't be able to bear our weight."_

Aw, crap.

"We can't afford to go back, Shepard," Miranda said in dismay. "Not now."

She was right, of course. We didn't have that kind of time. But I couldn't expect the rest of the crew to make it back on their own—they'd never make it. From the look of things, they'd be lucky if they could put one foot in front of the other. "Mordin, Tali; escort the others back to the Normandy. Tali, once you've arrived, I want you leading the repairs. Get the Normandy fully operational, or as close as you can manage. Mordin, you'll assist Dr. Chakwas in looking after the physical needs of the crew." Or take over if Dr. Chakwas wasn't up to it, I silently implied.

Mordin gave me an understanding nod before activating his omni-tool. "Joker, need location of landing zone. Will meet you there." He paused for a moment. "Location received."

That left Team Two with only four people. Even with Samara occupied with generating and maintaining a biotic field, Team One still had six people. "Kasumi, go with Team Two."

"Thanks, Shepard," Garrus said. "We needed the extra manpower."

"Plus, it will make Samara's job a bit easier," Miranda added. Samara gave what could have been a grateful nod.

"We've all got our assignments," I declared. "Let's move out!"

* * *

><p>I couldn't help but wait until Mordin and Tali led the rest of the crew out of the chamber, even though time was of the essence. Partly because there was the chance that I might never see any of them again—not that I could afford to say that out loud. <strong>(3)<strong> Partly because looking at them reminded me that the Normandy was at least somewhat operational and that the _entire crew _had been retrieved. It might not seem like much compared to the daunting task before us but, at the time, those victories seemed _huge._

Once they were out of sight, though, it was time to get going. My squadmates wished each other good luck, split up into teams—with Kasumi joining Team Two—and headed off. This time, I couldn't wait until they left. If I did that, they'd do the same, and we'd never get anywhere. I let myself have one last indulgence and stayed until Kasumi joined Team Two before heading off with the rest of Team One.

It only took a few minutes to get to the chamber Joker and EDI mentioned. I brought the team to a halt before we entered. "All right, Samara's going to be keeping the seeker swarms away from us as we walk through the chamber. It's our job to deal with anything else. Miranda, Thane; if Samara has to drop the field, either because she's exhausted or she's under attack, one of you will have to take over. Any questions?" There were none. "Okay, let's get to it."

Samara closed her eyes, gathering her strength. After a minute, her hands started to glow, growing in intensity from a gentle flicker to a brilliant blaze. Slowly, Samara spread them in a wide, circular pattern. A transparent dome of biotic energy expanded from her body. It spread outwards, quickly at first, then slowing to a stop.

I looked around. The biotic field was about ten metres in diameter. More importantly, it looked stable. How stable remained to be seen. "Samara?"

"I am ready."

"Legion, open the door."

The seeker swarms descended on us as soon as the doors opened. I held my breath as they hit the field... and stopped. Aside from a slightly brighter flicker of light, the field stayed steady. Samara had done it! "This is a good start," I approved. "Let's move out."

"Try to stay close," Samara reminded us, before starting to move.

We made sure to keep pace with her. No one wanted to step out of the field just because we were slow—not even Grunt, though that may have been because he found the prospect of being defeated by tons of tiny insects to be a tad galling. As we walked, I noted that this part of the chamber was actually composed of a series of corridors—each looking more like tunnels than anything else.

A hiss of static blared over the comm. _"Garrus here. Team Two is in position. Waiting for your orders, Shepard."_ At least, I think that's what he said—a surge in static masked part of the transmission. "You have a go, Garrus," I replied.

I heard nothing but static.

"Garrus? Garrus? Damn," I cursed. "The swarms are interfering with the comms." At least, I hoped that was the reason.

Giving up on any further communication, we headed down a ramp. Or started to head down it—we'd only gone a couple steps before Samara spotted some hostiles. "Incoming!" she warned.

"Assuming control."

The Collector drones were moving too fast for us to take out, though we did manage to disable the barriers on two of them. Harbinger stayed behind for a moment, hovering in mid-air as if taunting us. None of us took the bait, so it flew down to join the drones.

"_On my way," _Garrus said over the comm. It looked like my transmission got through after all. At the moment, though, I had other concerns. Samara thought the same: "I can't fight back while maintaining the field. Tell me when you're ready to move." She crouched down and closed her eyes, just in the nick of time—a volley of gunfire tore through the field and almost took her head off. It was then that I realized Samara's field was attenuated to block lower-velocity attacks like the seeker swarms. Made sense. Expecting her to generate a field strong enough to deflect gunfire would be asking too much. Unfortunately, that meant that she was especially vulnerable to any attacks. Guess it was up to us.

"Okay," I replied, leaning out long enough to select targets with my HUD. It looked like Harbinger and the drones had landed on a lower section of the ramp directly below us. Why they did that instead of landing in our midst and wreaking all sorts of havoc was beyond me, but I wasn't one to argue. Especially since Harbinger was more than capable of nailing me with its biotic attacks, even from a poor tactical position. "We will end you," it taunted before launching two such assaults. They knocked both Miranda and I back, spoiling whatever retaliation we had been planning and making a serious dent in our shields.

Ignoring Harbinger—and my heavily damaged shields—I quickly recovered, gave my orders and silently counted down from three. On my mark, Legion and Thane took out one of the injured drones while Miranda and I finished off another. Grunt dropped the barriers on a third drone, which quickly became target practise for the team. Then it was Harbinger's turn. Bit by bit, we whittled down its barriers. I was aiming my omni-tool at it, prepping a plasma discharge, when I felt several impacts against my shields. Whirling to my left, I saw one more drone. I caught Miranda's eye and motioned to it. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she crushed its barriers before turning her attention back to Harbinger. I set the drone on fire before following suit.

Only I couldn't find it. Where was Harbinger?

I felt a tingling at the back of my neck just before Harbinger stepped around the corner. Apparently, it had decided to sneak up the ramp and take us head-on. Grunt took out what was left of its barriers with a concussive round. Thane followed up with a biotic attack. Legion shot it at point-blank range with its sniper rifle.

Harbinger ignored all of that, raised one fiery arm and hit me with another withering barrage of biotics.

My shields blinked out in an instant. I felt like someone had broadsided me with an aircar. Everything in front of me blurred. There was a lot of yelling and shooting, muffled against this roaring sound in my ears and the pounding of my heart. In my imagination, I raised my arm and fired another stream of plasma at Harbinger.

The din died down as my vision came back. Looking down, I saw a Collector-shaped corpse quickly burning to ashes. Maybe I wasn't imagining things after all.

"All clear!" Miranda announced.

"Are you ready to move on, Shepard?" Samara asked.

I coughed once and swallowed, wincing as I tasted the sharp, coppery tang of my own blood. "Yeah," I nodded, as my shields regenerated. "I'm ready."

We continued down the ramp, slowly going around the corner. Just like Harbinger had, only in reverse. _"Hostile engaged," _we heard over the comm—guess Team Two had run into some trouble as well. Speaking of trouble, I thought I saw something moving through up ahead. Squinting through the haze created by Samara's biotic field and the seeker swarms; I saw a hexagonal platform touching down. Now that I knew what I was looking at, I recognized its unique high-pitched whining noise. "Hostiles!" I called out. "Dead ahead!"

The platform landed somewhere further down, beyond our line of sight. We all trained our weapons in that general area, though, so we were ready when the next wave of hostiles came charging. Well, as ready as you can when facing abominations and husks. "Miranda and Thane, target the lead abominations. Legion, snipe the husk. Grunt, hit the left abomination on my mark," I quickly ordered. "Fire!"

Miranda, Thane and Legion smashed through the armour of their targets. "Mark," I shouted before launching a fireball at the right abomination. Grunt hit the left one a second later. Both of them blew up, taking out the husk in the process. My HUD indicated that there were two more hostiles up ahead, which turned out to be another pair of abominations. Thankfully, they came stumbling along a good half-minute later, by which point we were ready for them.

Unfortunately, no sooner had we blown them up to smithereens then another six or seven of Collectors swooped in. It was easy to tell which one was Harbinger: it was the only one glowing and saying cheesy phrases like "I will show you true power" or—

"Preserve Shepard's body if possible."

Okay, that was a bit more creepy than cheesy.

"Taking cover," Samara cried out. "Let me know when you're ready to move."

This bunch had a slight advantage, and not just because Harbinger was leading the way. We found that out when Miranda and Thane launched their biotics at two of the drones. To our dismay, that little trick only damaged their barriers instead of collapsing them entirely, which meant they were the major-league drones. **(4)** As further proof, they erected semi-circular golden barriers in front of them to block further attacks.

Grunt was outraged by this, as he let out a roar before firing a concussive round at another Collector. _That _guy was merely a drone, as its barriers collapsed in a heartbeat. I was just about to fire some plasma when something caught my eye.

It was Harbinger—trying to sneak up on us again while we were distracted! "Harbinger sneaking around the left," I hollered. Legion instantly switched to their assault rifle, which would be more effective against barriers than their sniper rifle. They also deployed a combat drone to buy us some much-needed time. Harbinger started slapping at it. "There is no escape, human," it warned.

I decided to ignore Harbinger until I could hand out some orders. "Miranda, Grunt; keep up the pressure on the other Collectors. Thane; with me."

By the time Thane and I turned our sights on Harbinger, Legion and their drone had dealt a lot of damage to its barriers. One biotic blast from Thane was all that was needed to punch through, clearing the way for a round of high-temperature plasma from yours truly. Harbinger impatiently patted out whatever fires it could.

It should've been watching out for Legion, who was switching back to the sniper rifle for a headshot.

As Harbinger's puppet disintegrated, I checked my HUD. Miranda and Grunt had managed to take out two more Collectors. As I watched, another one lost its barriers. Several bullets hit it before it could erect a golden shield. Unfortunately, I still had a clear line of sight to it and my omni-tool was ready with another dose of plasma.

After the guardian went up in flames, that left three more Collectors. For some reason, Harbinger decided to possess the last Collector, the one whose barriers _weren't _decimated by Miranda and Thane's biotic attacks. I wasn't complaining—it was far enough away that we could afford to systematically take out its buddies, thus denying it any more bodies to make us of. Once they were eliminated, we started whittling down Harbinger's defences with a steady stream of biotics and plasma, taking care to avoid its attacks.

"No one left to shoot at," Grunt pouted.

"Take heart," Thane advised, "we will likely face several more."

"Woohoo!"

"Let us continue," Samara urged.

I noticed that Samara now had both of her hands raised above her—as opposed to having one raised and the other by her side—as if she was pushing the biotic field forward. Which might have been true, for all I knew. "Samara?"

"Let's go," she said. Was it me, or did her voice sound strained?

I stared at her carefully. She seemed okay. So I shrugged and motioned for her to start moving again, the team taking care to keep pace with her. As we marched, I surreptitiously tapped into her hardsuit and started a continuous analysis of her bio-readings. I might not have the first clue of asari physiology or biochemistry, but if any readings started to dip, at least I'd be able to pick them up.

"_Nice shooting," _Garrus complimented. Obviously, he wasn't talking to any of us.

Before we could speculate who he might have been talking to, a moan echoed out through the chamber. Samara came to a stop. "This area has a good deal of cover," she said.

I had to agree. If my sensors were working, we had a steady stream of hostiles heading our way. And based on their speed, we were probably looking at more husks and abominations. "This is a good spot to hold our ground," I said. "Everyone, get ready." We readied our weapons as Samara found a place where she could huddle down and minimize her exposure while still maintaining the biotic field.

Sure enough, an abomination and a husk came sprinting towards us, followed by a scion. According to my HUD, there were several more husks/abominations right behind them. At first I was going to leave the scion to later, focusing on the targets that might maul us to pieces. Then I realized that the scion was way too close for comfort. If I stuck to my original plan, the scion could smash through all our defences before we knew what hit us—in which case, it would be a toss-up as to who would kill us first: the scion, the abominations or the husks. "I got the scion! Everyone else, weapons free!"

Quickly cloaking, I raised my sniper rifle and fired off a shot. The lumbering hulk's armour took some damage. It was all I could do to keep from tapping my foot impatiently as my cloak recharged and the team. As soon as it was ready, I could fire another shot—wait, it was ready now! Cloak, aim, fire! Still alive? Damn it! I couldn't afford to stand around and wait, so I switched to my heavy pistol and fired off a full clip. That did the trick, though the scion managed to hit me with a biotic shockwave before it hit the dust—

An explosion sent me to my knees. Shakily, I stood up. If I had to guess, an abomination had managed to push its way through Samara's barrier, sneak in and blow up—either by a stray shot or by its own kamikaze choice. Whatever the reason, my shields were gone and I was hurt. Bad—I could taste some blood inside my mouth. Again. Plus I'd landed a bit awkwardly. Judging by the lance of pain shooting up my leg, I think I twisted my ankle. Right now, I definitely wasn't in any shape to stay put and fight.

As if I needed further evidence that the dice were rolling against me, I spotted two husks inside Samara's biotic field, an abomination about to step inside and who knows how many more galloping towards us. I stared at my HUD's readouts, hoping something on the display would give me a solution. Or at least signal that my shields were gonna regenerate sometime—what was taking so long, anyway? That was the only reason why I saw targets being selected. I'd take credit, only this time it wasn't me. Looked like...

...Miranda?

Hoping she knew what she was doing, I followed her lead and sent a fireball of plasma towards the abomination. Miranda ripped the armour off of a husk—the other one didn't have any left, apparently. A second later, Thane sent a wave of biotic energy surging forward, sending the abomination and husks flying. Grunt fired a concussive round as soon as they cleared Samara's biotic field, blowing the abomination—and husks—to kingdom come. Meanwhile, Legion was stalling the next batch with another combat drone.

"Good job," I wheezed. Miranda acknowledged me with a nod as my hardsuit _finally _administered a dose of medi-gel and started regenerating my shields. The team began firing off the odd shot, mixed in with some biotics and plasma whenever we could, while Legion's drone just stood there and let itself get smacked around by the husks and abominations. By the time the drone finally succumbed, Legion was ready to deploy another one to take its place. This went on for another minute or so, much to my delight. Best couple minutes in the last... quarter of an hour? Seemed like longer.

"Are we safe?" Samara asked.

Miranda managed to hit the last two husks with the same biotic attack. Grunt hit one with a concussive round while I fried the other. "Yep," I replied, taking a tentative step forward. My leg was able to support my weight without any trouble—man, did I love medi-gel.

"_Perfect."_

"I am... in agreement with Garrus," Samara said. "Shall we move on?" She got to her feet and pushed forward without waiting for a reply.

"Incoming!" Grunt warned, as a pair of husks popped up. I managed to hit both of them with a burst of plasma, just as Miranda had earlier. While the flames were still licking over their glowing bodies, Thane and Legion took them out.

Looking back to see how the team was doing, I realized that Samara was visibly trembling. I pulled up her life-signs for the last half-hour. To my horror, they had all dropped dramatically. "Samara?"

"I will hold on... as long... as I can," she insisted.

Miranda shot me a look, then darted ahead to the edge of the biotic field. Her next words were music to my ears: "I can see the exit to the chamber! The ramp slopes straight down towards it!"

"Need to... get there... soon," Samara forced out. She was hunched over now, eyes squeezed shut, not even looking where she was going at this point. But she could probably feel the trickle of cerulean blood slowly dripping from her nose. "Samara, keep moving forward," I quickly ordered. "Miranda, Grunt and I will take point. Legion, cover our rear and guide Samara. Thane; same deal as Legion, but be ready to generate a biotic field of your own. Hang on, people: we're almost there."

Some might have viewed the next few minutes as a breeze. The ramp sloped downhill, at a sharper decline than the previous sections, straight towards the exit. Only a couple husks reared their ugly heads, and they only popped up one at a time. On the other hand, Samara was definitely on her last reserves of strength. I watched uneasily as her biotic field shrank incrementally, in an obvious effort to preserve its integrity as long as possible.

"Shepard-Commander! Collectors advancing from the rear!"

I spared a look behind me—and quickly regretted it. Grunt moved to the rear—more to face the "fun" head-on than to shield Samara from incoming weapons fire, I guessed. "We must move quickly, Shepard," Thane said.

"Almost there!" I urged. "Come on!" We picked up the pace, double-timing it to the exit. The Collectors kept pressing, sending drones forward in a mad, sacrificial rush to get their hands—claws, whatever—on us. And it was working: they were getting closer and closer. Miranda and I gave up all pretence of being the point guard and joined the rest of the team at the rear, while Samara kept going, one shaky step after another. "Hurry, Shepard!" she cried.

Time seemed to slow. The Collectors kept coming. If I thought the previous rush of husks and abominations was endless, I was mistaken. _This _was endless. Collector after Collector after Collector. We took them down one by one with every weapon and tool in our arsenal. But for every Collector to collapse, two more seemed to take its place. For every metre we took forward, the Collectors took two more. Soon, they were right up against the boundaries of Samara's biotic field, their presence as pressing as the seeker swarms.

Then I heard a hissing sound behind me. Dreading the worst, I quickly glanced back...

...and my heart soared. That sound was the sound of doors opening! "We're at the exit!" I yelled.

Samara turned around on the spot. She brought her hands, still glowing, towards her. Arcs of biotic lightning began bouncing between them, building in intensity until it was almost dazzling. With a triumphant scream, she thrust her arms forward. Her biotic field suddenly exploded outwards, sending all the remaining Collectors and seeker swarms flying backwards.

That bought us enough time to run—or stumble, in Samara's case—through the doors. Somehow, I resisted the urge to do a happy dance as they closed shut behind us.

"_...do you copy? Come on, Shepard? Where are you?"_

Now that we weren't surrounded by seeker swarms, the comm interference had vanished. "I copy, Garrus," I replied. "What's your position?"

"_We're pinned down at the door," _Garrus yelled. _"Taking heavy fire!"_

The entire team was running before Garrus finished. Even Samara had gotten a second wind. "We're coming," I shouted. "Just hold on!"

Legion went straight for the door controls while the rest of us assumed firing positions, taking care to leave clear paths for Team Two. The last thing they needed was to escape enemy fire only to get accidentally mowed down by friendly fire. "Legion!"

"One moment. Overriding lockout—now."

"Come on!" I yelled as the doors opened. "Path's clear!"

Team Two retreated through the doors, guns blazing. We opened fire immediately, sending a storm of bullets flying towards another swarm of Collectors. "Seal the door!" I told Legion, somewhat unnecessarily, as their fingers were already flying over the door controls. The door did seal shut, but not before Garrus doubled over.

Oh shit.

I felt this plummeting sensation in my stomach. Time seemed to slow as I rushed over. Just as I was skidding to a stop next to him, Garrus straightened up. "Bullet punched through my shields," he explained. "Don't worry: my hardsuit stopped it."

I patted him on the shoulder, not trusting myself to speak. It looked like the rest of the squad was fine as well, so I reached up to activate my comm. "Joker? Can you read me? Are you at the rendezvous point?"

"_Reading you loud and clear, Commander," _Joker's voice came back. _"Dr. Chakwas and the rest of the crew just showed up. We didn't lose anyone—"_

Whatever he said next was drowned out as the squad—yes, even me—erupted into cheers. EDI took over once the noise died down. _"Professor Solus assures me that the entire crew is well-rested after their induced slumber in the stasis pods. Tali and I have already assigned everyone repair assignments."_

"Excellent," Miranda smiled. "Now let's make it count. EDI, what's our next step?"

"_There should be some nearby platforms that will take you to the main control console," _EDI said. _"From there, you can overload the system and destroy the base."_

"I see them," I confirmed. "We have plenty to choose from." Over twenty, at first count.

"_Uh, Commander? You got a problem."_

Aw, crap.

"_Hostiles massing just outside the door. Dozens, if not more. Won't be long until they bust through."_

It didn't take long for me to figure out that my plan had just been thoroughly scuttled. I quickly clambered onto the nearest hexagonal platform and turned to face the squad. "There are too many platforms for us to take," I said. "Even if we could pilot them all, the Collectors could just summon more and follow. However, if we left a rearguard behind, they could defend this position and keep the Collectors from overwhelming us."

I was about to suggest that one of the teams advance while the other team hold off the Collectors, husks and everything but the kitchen sink. EDI's next words, however, derailed that plan: _"Alert: revised estimate of enemy forces at 83 and counting." _

"Shepard, pick a few people to go with you," Miranda suggested, "and leave the others here to defend this position. That should buy you some time."

"And give the rearguard a fighting chance," Garrus agreed.

Wait—what? Why did everyone think I was going to volunteer for this task instead of staying behind and... oh, screw it. Knowing my complete and utterly lamentable lack of self-preservation, I probably _would _have volunteered. Heck, I already had by stepping on this oversized soapbox. Once this was all over, I really needed to have my head examined.

Miranda pulled herself onto the platform beside me. Either because she knew I would have picked her or because she wanted to stick with me to the very end. **(5)** "Grunt, you're coming with me as well. Everyone else—Garrus is in charge. Follow his lead."

Grunt didn't so much pull himself on as he jumped up. "I'm ready, Shepard," he growled.

"Anything you want to say before we do this?" Miranda asked.

Actually, I did. For once. "The Collectors, the Reapers—they aren't a threat to us. Or humans. They're a threat to everyone. They're a threat to everything. Everything we believe in. Everything we care about. Everything that makes us who we are. Those are the stakes we're fighting for. _That's_ the scale.

"It's been a long journey. We've all fought hard—both against the enemies around us and the demons within us—and we've all come out with a few scars. But we've also come out stronger. United. I know that I've led you in and out of more scrapes than any sane being could ever imagine. The first couple times, I did it because I knew the stakes. But that's changed. Now I know we have each other's backs and can handle anything that's thrown our way. I can honestly say that I have never, ever been prouder of any squad under my command.

"Now it comes down to this moment. So I have to ask you to fight hard one more time. To look out for each other the way you have countless times before. We win or lose it all in the next few minutes. So let's make every minute count. Make me proud. Make yourselves proud."

"We'll do our best," Garrus said. "Good hunting, Shepard."

"You too," I nodded.

I took one more look—perhaps the last look—at my squad, all mismatched and disparate. Every scratched, dented and bloody hardsuit. Every battle-tested, modified and optimized weapon. Every ex-con, psycho, bounty hunter, so-called terrorist and all-around misfit. This was my squad. Stronger and more united than you could ever imagine.

Then I turned around and activated the platform controls. With a shudder, the platform released its docking clamps. A whining noise built up as it picked up speed and flew away.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until the rest of the squad disappeared beneath me that I realized how huge this chamber was. It just seemed to stretch on forever, making me feel insignificant. Not for the first time either—what is it about Collectors and Reapers that they want to make things so <em>big<em>? I mean, I couldn't even see the walls, that's how big it was. As we soared onwards and upwards, I found myself wondering if we'd ever see the top. I mean, we'd have to, since the main control room was above us.

We started to slow down. At first, I thought that was a good thing. Maybe the platform was programmed to slow down once we arrived rather than rapidly decelerate to a screeching halt. But when we halted in mid-air, who-knows-how-many-kilometres above the ground, that's when I knew something wasn't right.

"Enemies incoming!" Miranda warned.

She was right, of course. A platform was angling towards us on an intercept course. Exactly the same shape and size as ours, only ours didn't have three Collector drones milling around on it. Our attacks were already flying as the platform docked slightly to our right. Miranda's biotics stripped the barriers off a drone, opening the way for me to set it on fire. Grunt smashed through another drone's barriers with a concussive round. Several shots later and it dropped to the ground. The last drone had just started to fire back when Miranda hit it with her biotics. Grunt went for a concussive round before I could do anything. The impact hit the drone and sent it flying off the platform. Peering over the edge, I saw it plummet out of sight. Why it didn't open its wings and fly back, I'll never know.

When I looked back up, another platform was touching down. Three more Collectors. Miranda started things off again. This time, though, her biotics weren't enough to tear down her target's barriers. The golden hemisphere it raised in front of it told us this was a guardian. Grunt's target lost its barriers in a blink, though. Guess they weren't all tougher models. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I sent some plasma flying its way before focusing on the guardian. We sent it staggering back with a constant barrage of gunfire until its barriers were stripped away. Then I introduced it to a fireball. Sadly, two were needed to drive things home. And I got several more scratches on my hardsuit—yeah, I lost my shields again. By the time I'd finished, Miranda and Grunt had depleted the barriers of the last Collector—another guardian, by the look of things. That one was just as vulnerable to fire, thankfully.

Once I barbequed another bug, I tried to engage the platform controls. Nothing happened. Unless you count a third platform coming to join us. As it docked to the left of the second platform, one of the four Collectors rose up into the air and started glowing.

"We are Harbinger."

Aw, crap. We would have had even odds if Harbinger hadn't shown up. Then again, it was a miracle we'd lasted this long without it joining the party.

Harbinger started walking towards us, a drone tagging along. That drone succumbed almost immediately. "Leave the dead where they fall," Harbinger said dismissingly. All heart, that guy.

Miranda kept an eye on Harbinger while I focused on another drone, whose barriers had been kindly stripped by Grunt. Pulling out my sniper rifle, I snapped off a shot without bothering to cloak. Didn't need, too—without barriers, my Widow rifle was more than up to the task.

By the time I lowered my sniper rifle, Grunt had joined Miranda in attacking Harbinger. Between the two of them, Harbinger's barriers were almost gone. Checking the status of my omni-tool, I aimed it at Harbinger and waited. One concussive round later and Harbinger's barriers dropped. Miranda's biotic attack landed a split second before my fireball, the combination crushing through most of Harbinger's armour. We only needed a couple more shots before Harbinger succumbed.

"Releasing control of this form," it uttered before disintegrating into ash.

Absently noting how chatty Harbinger was, I tried to wake up the platform controls again. Still nothing. Looking up in frustration, I stifled a groan when I saw another platform swooping down for a landing. We could already tell that Harbinger was there by the tell-tale glow of its carapace. Just before the platform docked, it swivelled, revealing that it was actually an amalgamation of _three _platforms joined together. To our dismay, six Collectors—plus Harbinger—were scattered across them.

"Seven of them!" Grunt roared. "Now we're having fun!"

Miranda and I exchanged a look. "This is your fault, you know," she told me.

"What?" I frowned.

"You're a bad influence on him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, he certainly didn't learn this from me."

"Is this your idea of a joke?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hey!" Grunt interrupted. "What's wrong with you two? We've got all these Collectors to shoot and you're busy talking."

Miranda and I exchanged another look, this one more of embarrassment than anything else. "We thought we'd let you enjoy yourself," I said, masking my chagrin with a casual nonchalance.

"Oh, I did," Grunt grinned. "Got two kills already. Plenty left for you, though."

Aw, he's sharing. Isn't that thoughtful?

Miranda turned her attention on one of the guardians, pummelling it with a biotic onslaught. I tried to help out with some submachine gunfire, but was blocked by one of those golden shields. I tried to get to a better vantage point so I could better direct the fight. There we go! On my order, Grunt sent the guardian staggering with a concussive round, one that shattered its barriers and left it open. A second later, it was staggering again. This time because of a plasma fireball. After that, all it took was a good half-dozen bullets.

I was so focused on taking that guardian out that I kinda forgot about Harbinger. Big mistake—it was sneaking up on our right. Miranda spotted it first, hurling a sphere of biotic energy into it. Harbinger returned the favour, clipping her on the side as she tried to dodge. As she tumbled to the floor, I quickly emptied the rest of my clip into Harbinger. Grunt followed suit with a concussive round as soon as he could load it. Next, I set Harbinger on fire.

"Your extinction is inevitable," it announced, just before hitting me with, not one, but _two _biotic blasts. They ripped my shields to shreds and sent me staggering back out of cover. The other Collectors promptly took advantage of my vulnerability to seriously dent my hardsuit. Coughing and choking, I dropped to the ground and dragged myself back into cover. My vision was getting blurry and blood-hazed again—probably because I banged my noggin against my helmet one too many times. This time, I could at least see Harbinger's glowing body stalking towards me. Actually, there were two of them—guess I hit my head a little harder than I thought. Taking a deep breath, I programmed another plasma round, reflecting how bad my pyromaniacal tendencies must be if I could do this on autopilot. I even knew when the plasma was ready without looking. Squinting to focus, I lifted my arm, aimed somewhere in front of me and let loose. To my delight, I hit the glowing sucker! "You fight your own rebirth," it hissed as the plasma consumed it.

That left two. One pesky Collector toting a particle beam weapon. One Collector who was suddenly levitating in the air and saying something ominous like "Face your annihilation." Well, it would be more ominous if we hadn't faced that particular brand of annihilation several times today, not to mention over the past year. Besides, Harbinger was quite a ways from us, so we had plenty of time to take out its buddy first. Harbinger turned its head back and forth, realizing that it was all alone.

"You insult a future you cannot comprehend," it intoned. "You fight your own rebirth."

"You already said that!" I yelled.

Before it could say anything else, Miranda and Grunt smacked it with a double-whammy of biotics and concussive rounds. While it was swaying, I quietly activated my cloak, raised my sniper rifle, and drilled a neat hole right through its beady, glowing eyes.

Quickly turning back to the control panel, I tried to get the platform going again. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. So I tried a little 'percussive maintenance.'

"Shepard," Miranda said with a slight note of amusement, "I'm quite sure that hitting it with your fists won't help."

"True," I admitted. "But it makes me feel better."

"It does, right?" Grunt beamed.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Why don't you turn your frustrations on the next platform?" she suggested.

Ugh. She was right. Another platform had just touched down, just like all the others. This time, though, there were no Collectors. No Harbinger. Just two scions and three abominations, the latter quickly charging towards us. Miranda and I quickly blew the first one away. The other two kept loping forward... then suddenly stopped. They cocked their heads in unison, flames licking over their bodies. Then they took a step to the left. Stopped. Took two steps right. Stopped. Took a step forward. Stopped. It was like they were really confused as to how to get to us. Miranda, Grunt and I looked at each other, shrugged, and took them out one by one.

The scions were just as easy. They just waited for us to approach them, not even bothering to respond until we attacked. Even then, only one scion—the one we hit first—tried to hit us. The other scion just stood there. Maybe they—like the abominations—needed some direction in any situation where their normal instinctual urge to kill wouldn't suffice. The fact that they weren't getting that direction could mean that the squad was thoroughly occupying their boss's attention. Or maybe the universe was finally giving me a break.

Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining.

After the last scion slumped, I did a quick search. For once, I wasn't looking for loot—though I did scoop up a spare thermal clip. No, I was looking for a platform with a working control panel. Naturally, it was the last one. Pushing the dead scions off the platform, I watched them drop out of sight before engaging the thrusters. With a shudder and a clank, the platform detached itself from the rest—which, now that I looked at them, resembled a nice piece of honeycomb—and flew up towards an oval portal in the ceiling.

"This must be the main control room," I said as we entered the passageway. "All the tubes lead to this spot. EDI, are you reading me?"

"_Affirmative."_

"What's going on up there?"

"_The tubes are feeding into some kind of super-structure. It is emitting both organic and non-organic energy signatures."_

We passed through into the main control room at last. Our eyes were immediately drawn...

"_Given these readings, it must be massive."_

"_Shepard, if my calculations are correct, the super-structure... is a Reaper."_

I found my voice at last. "Not just any Reaper—a _human_ Reaper."

"_Precisely."_

It wasn't complete, not by a long shot. But there was no mistaking what it was based on. A long dark metal spine dangled in the air, cold blue light running up its length like an obscene Christmas tree. Thick bands curved around two large lumps and a metal sphere—creepy analogues of a pair of lungs and a heart if ever I saw one—all made of the same mysterious metal. The Reaper was hanging by its upper arms, which were attached to four giant tubes—two on each side—as well as some thinner cables. Thinner being relative, since they were probably as thick as my waist. The lower arms weren't finished yet—either that or they'd been ripped off. A bundle of cables hung from each unfinished/amputated arms, looking eerily like sinews. The giant skull—which would look human if it wasn't for the extra left eye—bowed forward.

We barely noticed when the platform docked with another three platforms, too occupied with the... thing before us, so awesome and titanic and terrifying. As we stared, armoured sheaths retracted along the tubes, revealing their contents—a fiery liquid. Glowing wreaths of energy spread outwards from the transparent glass, flickering madly like a roaring fire.

"Okay," I said at last. "The Reapers really don't have any concept of thinking small, do they?"

"How many..." Miranda started before trailing off.

EDI filled in the blanks. _"It appears the Collectors have been processing tens of thousands of humans. Significantly more will be required to complete the Reaper."_

"What do the Collectors gain by turning humans into this... Reaper shell?" I asked.

"_They may be facilitating the Reaper equivalent of reproduction," _EDI suggested. _"However, it may also serve another purpose."_

"Such as?" I prompted.

"_The process of rendering humans down to their base components may be a way of extracting information and memory on the genetic level. Theoretically, this 'genetic memory' could be stored on an AI's neural network. The Reapers may seek to compile the knowledge and essence of these individuals into a single entity." _

"But why us?" I said. "The galaxy has so many other species, but the Collectors—and the Reapers—are specifically targeting humans. Why? Is it because of our genetic diversity?"

"_Given their history, it is likely that the Collectors tested other species, only to discard them as unsuitable or as a lower priority target. The Collectors and the Reapers may see humans as a unique threat, whether because of their genetic diversity, the adaptability and rapid growth that they displayed as they integrated into the galactic community or some other factor," _EDI speculated. _"Regardless of the reason or reasons, absorbing them would allow them to both destroy and understand humanity."_

"But the Collectors were once Prothean," I pointed out. "Why didn't the Reapers use them to build a Prothean Reaper instead?"

"_Probabilities suggest they likely attempted to create a Prothean Reaper after subduing the Protheans," _EDI replied, _"and failed. Over time, they found a new use for the Protheans and adapted them. Changed them to suit their needs. Turned them into workers. Tools for the Reapers."_

Ah. Plan B. I used to like Plan B. This time—not so much.

"Why are they building it to look like a human?" I asked. "Is it deliberate?"

"_It appears that a Reaper's shape is based upon the species used to create it," _EDI said. _"Whether it is intentional or a by-product of the creation process, I do not know."_

So the species used to create Sovereign looked like squids and cuttlefish? Huh.

Grunt scratched his head. "Why do they need humans at all? Aren't they just machines?"

"_While early encounters suggested a purely synthetic origin, recent evidence indicates that the Reapers are, in fact, a hybrid construct of organic and inorganic material. The exact construction methods remain unclear, but it seems probable that it involves, if not requires, the absorption of a species' very essence."_

That reminded me. "You said 'significantly more' humans would be needed to complete this thing," I recalled. "Just how many more humans do you think they'd try to take?"

"_Preliminary extrapolations suggest millions," _EDI replied. _"Perhaps more. It is impossible to know for certain. The Reaper appears to be in a very early stage of development. An embryo in human terms."_

Millions or more? That's a lot of essences to absorb. More importantly, that would take forever. Even if the Collectors and their Reaper masters hit every remaining human colony, that still wouldn't guarantee enough humans to meet their 'quota'. The only place that would suit their needs... was Earth.

"This isn't going to stop with the colonies, is it?" I shuddered, despite my best efforts.

"_No. Present population levels of all registered colonies are insufficient for the requirements estimated to complete this Reaper. It is likely that the colonists abducted up until this point were used as a test sample. A proof-of-concept. The ultimate goal would be to upload all humans into this Reaper mind. This would require the harvest of every human settlement in the galaxy. The obvious final goal... would be Earth."_

Hoo boy.

My mind desperately grabbed at the first possible thought before it shut down out of sheer, yet completely understandable, panic. "So it's not alive yet? We can still stop it from being..." Born? Popped out? "...created?"

"_The process can be stopped, but it is unclear exactly how much it has developed. I cannot, for example, tell you if it has awareness."_

"Well I can tell you one thing," I said grimly, "I am _not _going to sit by and let any more of my species get pulped to make that thing. We need a way to blow it straight to hell before the Collectors finish the job."

"It's hooked to those tubes," Miranda suggested. "If we damage them, we may be able to kill it."

"_At the very least, the tubes injecting the genetic fluid are a weak structural link," _EDI agreed. _"Destroying them should cause the supports to collapse and the Reaper to fall."_

A sudden whining noise interrupted us. I looked up, closed my eyes and sighed. "Give us a minute, EDI," I said. "We've got to take care of some old friends first."

Four Collectors were flying down. Three of them were aiming weapons at us. The other was just staring. It was with a detached sense of resignation that I watched as it transformed into Harbinger. "The void awaits your ascension," it proclaimed.

Miranda, Grunt and I immediately hit two targets, killing one and weakening the other for death by gunshot. Guess those two would ascend before I would. I glimpsed some movement out of the corner of my eye and wheeled around, gun at the ready. Luckily, my trigger-finger wasn't too twitchy, or I might have hit Grunt in the back. Or the ass—he was climbing onto one of the platforms to our right. It was a bit higher than the others, which would give a better vantage point. I followed him, Miranda close behind. Standing up, I looked to see where Harbinger and his buddy were. In hindsight, that wasn't a great idea. Almost got hit by a particle beam _and _Harbinger's biotics. Speaking of our favourite chatty Collector, Harbinger was getting way too close for my liking. Time to take it out. I got Miranda and Grunt to hit it with a biotic barrage and a concussive round. That didn't take out its barriers, so I had to hose it down with submachine gunfire. Once its barriers were down, I set it on fire—which, once again, wasn't quite enough to take it out. Had to resort to good ol' fashioned bullets.

Harbinger, of course, promptly possessed the last remaining drone. The only upside was that we managed to score a couple free shots while it was hovering and transforming in mid-air. Then I got everyone to duck. If I knew Harbinger, it wouldn't be able to resist coming after us.

Sure enough, Harbinger came stomping out. We rewarded its impatience with a biotic explosion and a concussive round to the kisser, which dropped its barriers in a heartbeat. While it was still flailing, I fired off a fireball—no pun intended. Harbinger made another pithy comment—specifically "This hurts you." Which would have been more impressive if its' biotic attack had actually _hit _anyone. Rather than sneer or laugh, I simply indulged my penchant for pyromania again. As Harbinger's avatar burned to a crisp, the armoured sheaths retracted. A coincidence, I'm sure, but I wasn't complaining. I pulled out my pistol, made sure the warp mod was activated and pointed it towards the top left tube. Might as well see how much damage those tubes could take—

—did the tube just shatter? Somehow, in the midst of my shock and surprise, I had the presence of mind to lower my aim and fire again at the bottom left tube. Again, the tube shattered. Yeesh, they sure don't make Reaper fluid tube thingies like they used to! With a loud creak, the Reaper sagged to the right—its right, my left—like a scary giant who'd had one too many drinks. We watched in anticipation, hoping that the sudden shift in weight might be enough. But the remaining tubes proved strong enough to support the Reaper's weight.

We were so busy watching the tubes that none of us reacted in time to fire off another shot before the armoured sheaths slam shut. That was forgivable—I probably wouldn't have been able to switch targets, aim my pistol and fire in time anyway. Missing the arrival of the next platform until the four Collectors it was bearing opened fire—that was unforgivable. Putting blinders on your situational awareness like that can be fatal.

On the bright side, we proved that old theory about how you can make something ingrained and instinctual if you do it often enough. How else can you explain how we killed one drone outright, collapsed another drone's barriers and dove for cover—all without thinking? Mind you, Miranda and Grunt lost their shields again, so I guess it wasn't entirely perfect. I motioned for them to stay down while their shields regenerated and target one of the remaining Collectors on my mark. That mark being yet another round of plasma—no sense wasting several gunshots when a single fireball would do. Besides, I didn't see any spare thermal clips lying around.

My plasma successfully fried the wounded drone. The other Collectors swivelled on the spot and summoned golden hemispheres, positioned to block any further barbeque attempts. Smart plan. Would've worked too—except that I had two other members on my team. Members who weren't above moving to a different position that wasn't impeded by pesky golden barriers. A quick round of biotics, concussive rounds and gunfire made short work of the barriers protecting one of the Collector guardians. That guardian tried to run for cover... only to run right into the sights of my sniper rifle.

Decloaking, I watched in satisfaction as the guardian flopped over like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Then I checked my HUD. One more hostile left. No more enemy reinforcements on their way. Three-on-one odds. Harbinger still sulking from the last who-knows-how-many-times we blew away its molten butt. I allowed myself a small smirk before ordering Miranda and Grunt to new positions, positions that made it impossible for the guardian to avoid getting hit. No matter where it moved, one of us could shoot it. If it stayed still, one of us could shoot it. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Nice to have someone _else _be in that situation for a change. As Grunt dealt the killing blow, I pulled out my pistol again. If I was really, really lucky...

...YES! The armoured sheaths retracted, offering a brief window to shatter the glass tubes. Two shots were all it took. A loud shriek pierced the air, followed by a long stuttering groan as Reaper Baby drooped down. **(6) **For a second, I thought the remaining cables would be enough to support Reaper Baby's weight. But no, the cables started snapping one by one, the sound muffled by more screeching and groaning. Reaper Baby sagged lower and lower until it finally dropped out of sight. We warily walked towards the edge to check things out, but Reaper Baby had already fallen out of sight.

Okay, now that we were temporarily out of harm's way, time to see how everyone was doing. "Shepard to Team—" Wait. We never actually got to figure out the team names, did we? "Shepard to Team Two Plus," I finally said. "What's your sitrep?"

There was a loud barrage of gunfire over the comm and some muffled yelling. "Say what?" I called out.

"_Jack here,"_ we finally heard. _"Everyone else is a little busy."_

"You all okay?"

"_No one's dead. I'm having a blast taggin' them as they come." _

"So should I take my sweet time in finishing things off over here?"

"_Nah, feel free to call for an exit anytime!"_

Despite the cavalier words she'd tossed out, there was an undeniable tension running in Jack's voice. "Head to the Normandy," I ordered. "Joker—prep the engines. I'm about to overload this place and blow it sky high."

"_Roger that, Commander," _Joker replied. I closed the comm channel and pulled up the schematic of this station. If EDI's scans were right, the primary power regulators should be right... about... here! I reached down and tapped a control panel that was lying flush against the floor of one of the platforms. With a heave and a hiss of pressurized gas, the regulators rose to shoulder level. As I knelt down to figure out the best place to plant the explosives, Joker contacted me again. _"Uh, Commander? I've got an incoming signal from the Illusive Man. EDI's patching it through."_

TIMmy? Really? Didn't he have a cigarette to smoke? Stifling a sigh, I got to my feet and turned around. Miranda patched EDI's signal through her omni-tool. A holographic image of TIMmy appeared, sans smokie—and legs. _"Shepard," _he greeted me. _"You've done the impossible."_

I decided not to mention he'd apparently done the same by taking a hacksaw to everything from the waist down. Or that he'd somehow gotten a signal all the way out here. "I'm not finished here yet," I said instead. "This base is ten minutes away from being blown sky high."

"_Wait. I have a better option."_

Oh this should be good.

"_I'm looking at the schematics EDI uploaded. A timed radiation pulse would kill the remaining Collectors, but leave the machinery and technology intact."_

He couldn't be serious.

"_This is our chance, Shepard. They were building a Reaper. That knowledge—that framework—could save us."_

He was serious. I really shouldn't be surprised at this point. "Did EDI tell you what they did to all those abducted colonists?" I asked. "They liquefied them. Turned them into goop and mixed them all up to create the creepiest Reaper I've ever seen. We have to destroy the base and stop them before it's too late."

"_Don't be short-sighted," _TIMmy chided. _"Our best chance against the Reapers is to turn their own resources against them."_

"I'm not so sure," Miranda said slowly. "Seeing it firsthand... using anything from this base seems like a betrayal."

"_If we ignore this opportunity, _that _would be a betrayal," _TIMmy insisted. _"The Reapers were working directly with the Collectors. Who knows what information is buried here? This base is a gift. We can't just destroy it."_

"Sure we can," I replied. "No matter what kind of technology we might find, it's not worth it. Not when it's been tainted like this."

"_Shepard, you died fighting for what you believed. I brought you back so you could keep fighting. Some might say what we did to you was going too far, but look what you've accomplished. I didn't discard you because I knew your value. Don't be so quick to discard this facility. Think of the potential."_

"Oh I'm thinking of the potential all right," I frowned. "I'm thinking of all the things you did, all the suffering you caused, and all the lives you sacrificed or ruined in the pursuit of some so-called potential. Forget it: we'll fight and win without it. I won't let fear compromise who I am or what humanity stands for."

TIMmy clenched his jaw for a moment before turning around. _"Miranda. Do not let Shepard destroy the base."_

"Or what?" Miranda scowled. "You'll discard me for someone else with _potential_?"

I could have sworn I saw a vein in his neck throb. _"I gave you an order, Miranda!" _he hissed.

"I noticed," Miranda said coolly. "Consider this my resignation."

TIMmy quickly recovered and turned around. _"Shepard, think about what's at stake. About everything Cerberus has done for you. You—"_

Miranda cut the connection before he could finish. I went back to the power regulator and placed the first explosive. Miranda knelt down beside me. "You know," I grinned, "if I didn't need to focus on rigging this thing to blow, I'd kiss you right now."

Miranda shot me a dazzling smile. It... er...

...

...um...

...

Damn it. So much for focus.

The next thing I knew, the explosives were placed and Miranda had this knowing smile on her face. "Let's move," I said, trying to save face by activating the countdown timer and closing the regulator. "We've got ten minutes before the regulator blows up, the reactor overloads and this whole station comes flying apart."

9:59

To punctuate that point, the floor shook underneath our feet. Then it shook again. It actually tilted sharply. A large object rose up and landed on the platform. It looked like a...

...giant arm?

Aw, crap.

With a mechanical whirr, another arm reached up and latched onto the platform. Bracing itself against the platform, Reaper Baby pulled itself up. It loomed over us, all three eyes glowing with a malevolent glare. Without thinking, Miranda hurled her best biotic shot at it while I let fly the hottest plasma my omni-tool could muster. According to my sensors, both attacks struck home and dealt... next to no damage whatsoever. This would take far too long. If reinforcements didn't come to tear us apart, the base would rip itself apart and take us with it. I was in the midst of pulling out my sniper rifle and checking to see whether I could cloak when I saw a red swirl around its mouth. It started off as a couple sparks before flaring to life, growing in heat and intensity like a brushfire turning into an inferno. We ducked for cover just seconds before that firestorm exploded outward. We could feel the heat, even through the hardsuit.

All I could think was: great. Reaper Baby's got a case of the burpsies.

As if ashamed of its poor manners, it ducked down, almost dropping out of sight, but keeping an eye just above the platform. Big mistake—my cloak was on-line and my sniper rifle was ready to go. Not the easiest shot I've ever made, but definitely not the hardest. Hit that sucker while it was playing peek-a-boo and actually scratched the sucker. Now if I only had an infinite supply of thermal clips and all the time in the world, I might be able to get us through this.

9:00

Unfortunately, I only had 13 clips and we were out of time—Harbinger and a couple buddies had flown in via another platform while we were trying not to get barfed on. Miranda and I eliminated one of the drones, but that left a lot of Collectors milling around. Plus, Reaper Baby came back. Just in time—I had an idea: "Concentrate your fire on the Reaper!" I yelled.

Grunt eagerly switched to the biggest target in the room. Miranda gave me a questioning look, but complied. Rather than explaining, I just fired another sniper round without bothering to cloak—yes, I had my reasons—and then switched weapons. I activated my cloak just before pressing the trigger, figuring it was better to charge it up undetected. The cloak deactivated just as the charge reached maximum power. "Hey," I yelled as I shimmered back into view. "Say hello to my little friend!" **(7)**

The resulting explosion took out Harbinger and his drones. It also created a nice, big crater in its head. Reaper Baby quickly ducked for cover. No matter—it would be back. And I'd taken care to modify my hardsuit so it could carry more power cells. As a result, I had enough ammo to fire one more shot from the Nuke Gun. Which reminded me: I needed to reload.

I slotted in the last power cell just as Reaper Baby returned. Once again, I cloaked and aimed. Reaper Baby started feinting and dodging left and right, no doubt realizing what was in store for it. Not fooled by its antics, I just trained the Nuke Gun on it, readjusting as necessary before letting the second round fly. Once again, a huge nuclear explosion lit up the room. I stepped out to see what had happened. The smoke cleared...

"Oh come on!" I howled. Reaper Baby was barely clinging to its unholy life, but it was still up and about. "Seriously?"

Reaper Baby hurled another energy barf-ball at me. This time, it landed dead-centre, frying my shields. In response, I dropped the Nuke Gun, yanked out my pistol and fired the rest of my clip—a measly two shots.

As it turned out, those measly two pistol shots accomplished what two nuclear rounds couldn't. Reaper Baby reeled back, a geyser of flame erupting from its left eyes. It swayed for a bit, seemed to steady itself, then fell forward. Its giant arm flew through the air and slapped the platform, which tilted violently with the sudden, if temporary, increase in weight. Grunt stumbled, but managed to catch himself. So did I. Miranda, though...

Oh no.

Miranda lost her footing, fell down and started sliding down the platform. Without thinking, I threw myself after her. I waited as the distance closed between us before stretching out my arm. Miranda reached for my hand, grabbed it for a brief second, then lost her grip. She was almost at the edge now. I had only one more chance to save her. She slid off the platform. I lunged for her...

...got her! I quickly grabbed the edge of the platform before I slid off myself. I got a good grip and heaved, lifting Miranda back onto the platform. "You owe me one," I grinned.

Miranda was about to respond when the Reaper Baby blew up. The platform suddenly jerked back the other way, dislodging itself from the other platforms and sending all of us bouncing and sliding back the other way. Its thrusters kicked in, stabilizing it somewhat, but we were still flying wildly through the air, jerking from side to side, careening towards another platform—

* * *

><p>When I came to, the first thing that came to mind was: this was the third time this mission that I'd gone bouncing off the floor. It was getting really old, really fast.<p>

The second thing was: "Oh my god! Miranda!"

I tried to get up and find her, only to realize the third thing: I was pinned down by a big honkin' piece of metal. More like a pillar, really. I took a deep breath and pushed it off. I'd like to say it was my manly muscles, but the hardsuit servomotors helped.

Getting to my feet, I rushed over to Miranda. She was also pinned down. I lifted it off—using my knees, of course—and pushed it aside. Then I bent down over her. She was still. Too still. A trail of blood trickled from her forehead. "Miranda?"

She didn't respond.

I shook her gently. "Miranda?"

Shit.

"Miranda. Come on. Wake up. You have to get up. We did it. We rescued the crew. We stopped the Collectors. We stopped the Reapers. We won. Now we have to go. Please wake up. You're starting to freak me out. Come on. You can't be... you just can't! Please wake up. Please.

_"Please."_

...

...

"Shepard?"

My head jerked up. "Miranda?"

Her eyes fluttered open. She murmured something. "What?" I asked.

"I'm okay. Don't freak out."

"Right. Not freaking out. I wasn't freaking out."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Then what were you just doing?"

"Babbling," I replied. "There's a difference."

"Well, now that we've got that sorted out, can you help me up?"

"Glad to," I nodded. I lifted her to her feet. She stumbled briefly before I caught her. Our eyes met. Our bodies swayed together. Her lips, ever so soft, let out a soft groan.

Wait. No. Her groan couldn't possibly be _that _deep. But that only left... oh.

Right. Grunt. Killjoy.

I ran over to Grunt who—surprise, surprise—was also pinned down under some metal. I heaved it off, thinking to myself how my biceps were sure getting a workout today.

"Is he okay?" Miranda called out.

With a huff and a puff, I hauled Grunt to his feet—boy, was he heavy. Grunt's eyes popped open. He looked around for a moment before focusing on me. A grin spread across his face, stretching from ear to ear. "LET'S DO THAT AGAIN!"

I turned back to Miranda. "I think he's okay," I confirmed with a straight face.

"_Do you copy? Commander? Come on, Shepard, don't leave me hanging. Do you copy?"_

"Joker, it's Shepard," I replied. "We're all okay. Did the rest of the squad make it?"

"_Everyone's back, safe and sound,"_ Joker reported. _"We're just waiting on you."_

Then something occurred to me. I checked my HUD, which I had synchronized to the countdown timer.

2:00

Aw, crap.

"Send us the coordinates for the extraction point, EDI," I snapped. "We'll..." I broke off, staring at the shadows. They seemed to be getting darker. And closer. And they were moving around like...

...bugs?

Aw, crap.

"We'll be coming in hot!" I yelled. "Miranda, Grunt; let's move!"

"_Shepard, you've changed nothing," _Harbinger's voice boomed out as the seeker swarms flew after us.

1:48

A Collector reared its ugly head. Miranda and Grunt passed me as I paused to shoot at it until it ducked for cover. _"Your species has the attention of those infinitely your greater," _Harbinger continued.

1:29

We raced down a tunnel that led towards the landing site EDI specified. It seemed to go on forever.

1:06

"_That which you know as Reapers are your salvation through destruction."_

We took a left and skidded to a stop. In front of us, at least three Collectors froze. We stared at each other. One of the Collectors came to its senses first and lifted its rifle. Without a word, we turned tail and ran the other way.

0:57

Bullets and energy beams flew past us, somehow missing us despite their sheer volume. We ran up a thin ramp towards a set of platforms hovering in mid-air. Beyond it was nothing but a long, long drop into the abyss.

Then we heard a familiar whine.

The Normandy rose up before us. Despite the large scrapes and gaping holes, despite the Cerberus colours and blatantly obvious advertising, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Scratch that, I amended, spotting Miranda in front of me—it was the _second _most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The Normandy turned to starboard, opening the port airlock—the one next to the cockpit. Garrus was there, assault rifle at the ready. So was Zaeed. And Samara. And Thane. Pretty much every member of my squad trained and certified in the operation of long-range weapons.

And Joker, of all people.

Yes, my trusty wise-ass pilot was there, front and centre, toting an assault rifle. He was the first one to open fire, I think. Judging by the squeals and squawks behind me, he was doing a damn good job, too. **(8)**

0:45

Miranda and Grunt ran across the platforms and jumped onboard. I was still racing up the ramp, dodging the increasingly large pieces of debris that were falling down as the Collector base began shaking itself apart.

0:33

A large metal bracing fell down, knocking the platforms askew. Joker and the others briefly stopped firing as the platforms went spiralling away. That left one huge gap between me and the Normandy. Not having any choice, I broke into a flat-out sprint, feet flying underneath my feet. I propelled myself those last few steps, reached the edge of the ramp and flung myself forward. I flew across the gap, legs still churning, arms wind milling in an attempt to move me just a little bit farther. I was almost there. I was going to make it. I was actually going to...

...

...aw, crap.

My hand was about the only thing that made it past the threshold into the airlock. I slapped it down hard and grabbed the floor for dear life as the rest of me succumbed to the unforgiving laws of gravity. Behind me, the Collectors opened fire once more. Everyone above me returned the favour. Everyone except Miranda, who dropped to her knees, grabbed my arms and braced herself. With her support, I managed to haul my sorry ass onboard.

"Now we're even," she grinned.

Jacob slapped the airlock controls. The doors sealed shut. As the Normandy pulled away, I pushed my way through the squad, nodding random thanks along the way. Joker was one step ahead of me, already limping towards the pilot's seat as I burst into the cockpit.

"_Detonation in ten, nine, eight—"_

"Yeah, I got the gist of it, EDI!" Joker yelled, tossing the assault rifle aside as he dropped into the pilot's seat. "Everybody hold on!"

The Normandy jumped forward, blasting through the Collector base and back into space. As Joker banked her into a sharp turn and sent her flying past the base, I glimpsed small explosions bursting out one by one along the hull. We were about a hundred thousand kilometres away, just barely skimming over the debris field, when the base was obliterated in a massive supernova. The conflagration billowed outward, consuming and disintegrating derelict vessels as it swept towards us. We silently urged the Normandy to fly just a little bit faster as we darted towards the mass relay, the only one connected to the Omega 4 relay that had brought us to this hellhole. Just a little bit faster, we prayed, as the raging inferno grew closer and closer. Joker's fingers flew over the console, simultaneously keeping the Normandy on its approach vector while connecting to and engaging the mass relay. Just a little bit faster...

...a flash of light...

...and we entered the transit corridor, speeding back to the Terminus Systems. A second later, the cockpit—no, the entire _ship_—burst into deafening cheers as the magnitude of what we had done hit home. We did it. We actually did it.

We rescued the crew.

We stopped the Collectors.

We stopped the Reapers.

We'd won.

* * *

><p><em>(1): A phrase from the story "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves," used to open the mouth of a cave where the titular forty thieves had hidden their treasure. <em>

_(2): Shepard would later found out she was Lilith Blanchet, the last surviving colonist from Horizon._

_(3): One of many challenges faced by those in command. _

_(4): Shepard apparently took some time to designate this particular breed of Collectors. By the time he went through the Omega 4 relay, however, he had settled on the term 'guardian.' An appropriate description, I think._

_(5): Both, I'm sure. _

_(6): Shepard's penchant for nicknames continues unabated. _

_(7): A reference to the 1983 version of the vid Scarface. It should be mentioned that the protagonist's 'little friend'—an M16 assault rifle with an under-barrel M203 grenade launcher attachment—was significantly less powerful than Shepard's._

_(8): I suspect the residual, albeit misplaced, guilt over losing Shepard two years ago and losing the rest of the crew during the integration of the Reaper IFF motivated Mr. Moreau to repay a longstanding debt._


	40. Aftermath

_Author's Note: That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Your eyes do not deceive you. After forty chapters and almost two years, The Hero We Deserve is finished. While there were some things about this novelization that I knew from the beginning, there was a lot I discovered along this journey. What parts—from throwaway lines or entire chapters—would resonate with people. Which readers would come back and review time and time again. The dozens of new people who would review, favourite or follow my work. The sheer number of reviews, period—I never thought I'd get over 400 reviews! While it's been a pleasure to write, struggle and re-write this fanfic, it's been an even greater pleasure to hear, in one way or another, how much joy and satisfaction it brought to all of you. So I'd like to take this opportunity to offer a sincere and humble thank you for all your accolades, no matter how big or small._

_Additional thanks go to my beta reader and friend, Chris Dee, for all her time, input and creative energies. I wouldn't have gotten this far without her help and encouragement, which often times went above and beyond the call of duty._

_While I can't make any promises on how quickly I can churn out future fics, or whether you will agree with what I have in mind (*cough*ME3*cough*), I certainly hope that you understand the decisions I make and will find some satisfaction in the final result._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26: Aftermath<strong>

We had just returned through the Omega 4 relay. Hard to believe—I was still pinching myself to make sure it wasn't some crazy dream. I checked every deck and chatted with just about everyone, just to make sure we didn't miss anyone. But everyone was accounted for.

After harassing everybody, I dropped by Miranda's quarters. Her fingers were flying over her console as I entered. She held up one finger in an obvious "Hold on" gesture before continuing her typing, not even bothering to look up. Taking the hint, I sat down and waited. It took about ten minutes before she was done. Thankfully, I found a way to pass the time. **(1)**

"My Cerberus authorization codes are still valid," Miranda explained. "Probably because the Illusive Man doesn't know we survived yet. I was just transferring the assets from various Cerberus accounts—mine and several others I came across—to new accounts before he rectified that error."

"So are we solvent?" I asked.

"Relatively," she nodded. "Between the funds I... acquired and your usual habits, we should be all right for the near future."

"How do you feel about leaving Cerberus after all these years?" I asked. "Going from strident supporter and senior representative to resigning and siphoning off accounts?"

Miranda thought about that. "Honestly? Not as conflicted as I might have thought. I still believe that humanity should play a strong and influential role in galactic affairs. But my position on _how _we should achieve those goals has changed. This past year has forced me to face the dark side—arguably, the true side—of Cerberus and its methods. How abuses, atrocities and horrific experiments are routinely and blithely accepted as a matter of course, all in the name of making discoveries and progress to mold humanity into a dominant—if not _the _dominant—power. How a lack of any effective regulation or oversight—justified as being better than the excessive and over-redundant bureaucracy of other legitimate bodies—undermines and defeats that very progress.

"More importantly, this year has shown how humanity needs to work with the other species—in and out of Citadel space—if we are to survive the coming storm. We wouldn't have survived half of the missions were it not for the active and wholehearted participation of nonhumans. We wouldn't have survived going through the Omega 4 relay if it wasn't for all the upgrades and contributions of nonhumans. If we are to have any chance of defeating the Reapers, we have to stand together. And I wouldn't have come to that conclusion if it wasn't for you."

For once, I didn't know what to say. "Thank you," I managed at last.

Miranda nodded, then resumed typing. I guess she remembered another account or something. "How are you doing?" she asked casually.

It struck me that she was the first one who'd asked me that. "Okay. I can't believe we did it," I admitted. "Part of me wishes we could have done more, though."

"We did everything we could," Miranda soothed, looking at me reassuringly while typing away. "We saved the _entire crew_, didn't we? That wouldn't have happened had we rushed through the Omega 4 relay before we were ready. As it stood, we went after the crew as soon as the IFF was online."

She was right, of course. I knew that. But somehow it didn't seem enough. **(2)** Or maybe I was just tired. When had I had a good night's sleep? Or woke up without immediately getting out of bed and thinking about today's agenda? Couldn't remember.

I must have been silent for a while, because Miranda thought I was thinking about something else. "We had to do it, Shepard. Taking down the Collector base was the right decision. The Illusive Man might not agree... but we had no choice."

"The rest of the squad would agree with you," I nodded.

"Yes, you would have finished your rounds by now." Miranda gave me a look when I acted surprised. "It's me, remember? Of course I know your routines. What did they say? And how is the rest of the crew?"

Of course, she knew about my unofficially scheduled rounds. "Well, shall l start from the top and work my way down?" I proposed.

"Please."

"Kelly was the first person I saw when I stepped out of the elevator. Still traumatized by the whole thing. She—did you know she has an eidetic memory?"

"That was in her records, yes," Miranda confirmed. "She remembers the entire ordeal in great detail, I take it?"

I quoted Kelly's exact words: "'Trapped. Suffocating. It's oozing into every pore. Faint sobs echoing in the confined space.' Sounds like Thane's memory recall, actually. I was thinking that maybe she should talk to Thane. See if his experience with this sort of thing can help her."

"He would know what she's going through better than anyone," Miranda agreed.

"Matthews was crowing about how we 'tore the Collectors a new one.' Hadley agreed that we really pulled through for them. Joker's hoping that 'Collector/Reaper crap' is over. Deep down, he admitted that he knew better."

"We may have stopped the Collectors, but we still have the Reapers to deal with," Miranda agreed. "And after you stopped them twice, they definitely won't be happy."

"True, but I think some people are more worried about the Illusive Man's reaction," I replied. "Mordin for example, he—how did he put it? Right: 'Collectors destroyed,'" I mimicked. "'Base in ruins. Extremely impressive. Illusive Man will be displeased. Fortunately, not human myself. Not my problem."

Miranda smiled. "Did he have anything else to say?"

I did another Mordin impression: "'Having trouble working between your interruptions and EDI's insistence that 'insane' experiments endanger entire crew. Hard to concentrate.'

"Anyway, moving on: Jacob thought blowing up the Collector base was a great way to tell the boss I was quitting and wished he could see TIM—the Illusive Man's face," I continued. "Come to think of it, it is odd that he hasn't called to complain yet." I pondered that for a moment before shrugging. "Anyway, he also thinks that we still have a ways to go before it's over. Especially with my penchant for making enemies out of groups like the Reapers and now Cerberus.

"Garrus felt the same way about the Reapers and Cerberus, though he was a bit more optimistic. Seemed to think that anyone who got on my 'bad side' tended to meet a sticky end—such as Saren and the Collectors—so he almost felt sorry for everyone else who'd pissed me off. Reapers. Almost."

"Jacob and Garrus do have a point," Miranda nodded. "We can hardly rest on our laurels when there's still so much work to be done. On the other hand, the track record we've established so far is very promising."

"True. Moving on: Gardner seemed to think I was a hero because I pulled the crew from the Collectors' clutches just after they got taken from the Normandy. Said I was aces in... in his book."

"Shepard?"

"Eh, it's just... it's sincere and all, but it's just so simplistic," I sighed. "People just go and call you a hero, even when there are other factors that were just as important. Or people who played just as important a role, if not more. There's no way in hell I could have been ready to go after the Collectors that quickly if it wasn't for the contributions and upgrades of the entire squad. And fighting through all those Collectors and husks to rescue the crew, escort them back and blow up the base? Team effort again. Well, squad effort, but you get the idea. It's just glorifying one schmuck at the expense of so many others."

"But it was your foresight that explored so many options to improve our fighting chances," Miranda pointed out. "You encouraged us to use our knowledge and resources to make all the upgrades—military and otherwise—to the Normandy and our weapons. It was your leadership that led us through so many battles, honed our skills and refined our unit cohesion. It was your ability to inspire people that made us stand by you through impossible odds and come out alive."

"Yeah, I guess. **(3)** Anyway, Samara and Thane both agreed that destroying the Collector base was the right choice. Samara added that the Illusive Man lacked, in her opinion, the wisdom to utilize it. Thane understood that it might have been a difficult choice—"

"Was it?" Miranda wanted to know. "Was it difficult?"

"For a moment, maybe," I conceded. "I mean, all the advanced technology just sitting there. We know that any time the Collectors give a piece of it out, it offers a massive technological advantage. But when you think of all the suffering that's required to acquire it, the fate of those who are given to or abducted by the Collectors, it sure does make you feel uneasy.

"Legion had an interesting take on it, actually," I remembered. "They felt humanity was offered everything geth aspire to. True unity. Knowledge and understanding. Even transcendence. But I ultimately rejected all of that, even the possibility of using those gifts to achieve such goals on our own terms—which the geth had also done. Legion interpreted that as a suggestion that I had more in common with the geth than they had previously thought."

"You know," Miranda said thoughtfully, "a year ago, I would have thought that ludicrous. Even insulting. But now? Now that sounds like a compliment of the highest order."

"I feel the same way," I agreed. "Funny how allies and enemies can change so quickly."

We exchanged a knowing look for a second. Then a minute. Then we realized that this was going nowhere fast. "By the way, how is Dr. Chakwas?" Miranda asked. "You must have passed her on the way to see Legion."

"She's still a bit shaken by her ordeal," I replied. "Anyone would be, particularly given what lay in store for her and the crew if we hadn't gotten there in time. But she is very grateful for our help. Cited me and Joker in particular.

"Rolston and Patel are a little dazed as well," I continued. "Glad it's over and we succeeded, though. Rolston can't wait to get back to San Fran and see his family. I think everyone could use a little R&R."

"Which reminds me," I said, snapping my fingers. "Kasumi thought the crew could use a good party. Rather than wait until we hit a port where they could disembark for some shore leave, she thought she'd set one up. When I left her, she was determining just how much alcohol we have in the Port Observation lounge—which was a lot. Seems like the crew didn't really make use of it because they didn't want to intrude on what was essentially her quarters."

"I'll pass the message on to the rest of the crew," Miranda nodded. "And I'll make sure Gardner works with her as well—I'm sure he has some supplies that he was saving for a special occasion. This would certainly qualify."

"If nothing else, he has a stack of thresher maw steaks left over from Grunt's Rite," I agreed. "Unless he ate them all. Speaking of Grunt, he's still giddy about how things turned out. Kept going on and on about how it was a great battle, how he found it hilarious that I blew up the base instead of handing it to Cerberus and how that meant we were probably the most dangerous thing in the galaxy now."

"Until the Reapers show up," Miranda muttered.

"Yeah," I groaned. "I know."

"Anyone else?" Miranda asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Tali also marvelled that we destroyed the Collector base, given how everyone said it was impossible. According to her, though, that's said about a lot of things I somehow manage to do."

"It's true, though," Miranda shrugged.

"Anyway," I moved on, a bit embarrassed by all the accolades, "Ken and Gabby were busy helping her run diagnostics. They extended their thanks as well. Would've said more except..." I broke off, memories coming back in perfect detail.

"Shepard?"

"They were interrupted by a bunch of loud bangs and thumps and shrieks. Sounded like a bunch of crates were being crushed against each other—with cats trapped inside."

Miranda leaned forward, a frown on her face. "What was it?"

"Zaeed and Jack," I winced. "I don't know when exactly this happened, but they evidently decided to have sex. A lot of it. As loud and violently as possible."

"Oh, there's an image I didn't need," Miranda shuddered.

"At least you didn't see it," I said sourly. "It was... it was wrong on so many levels. **(4)** Thank your lucky stars that you—"

"_Shepard," _EDI broke in over the comm. _"The Illusive Man wants to speak with you. Immediately."_

I knew this was too good to last. "Has he locked out the controls yet?" I groaned.

"Actually, he can't do that anymore," Miranda said.

I looked at her in surprise—and delight.

"_Ms. Lawson is correct," _EDI informed me. I noted that she wasn't using her Cerberus designation of 'Operator.' Guess scuttlebutt travels fast. _"With her assistance, I have deleted all remote overrides throughout the Normandy. Please note, however, that there are still numerous surveillance systems that I have yet to isolate and remove."_

In other words, I could fly merrily throughout the galaxy, do anything I damn well pleased, and TIMmy couldn't do anything other than watch helplessly and chomp on his cigarettes. Hmm...

Before I could start imagining the various possibilities, Miranda cleared her throat. "Shepard?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to admit, I'm still feeling a fair amount of anxiety and tension."

"Not surprising," I replied. "We did just waltz into a hornet's nest, rile everybody up, rescue the crew, blow up said nest and escape just in the nick of time. Anybody would be a little stressed after something like that."

"Indeed," Miranda nodded, a wicked smile spreading over her face. "And if we don't do something to address that soon, I may not be medically fit to continue my duties as executive officer."

"I see," I said, echoing her smile despite the grave tone in my voice. "Then, as captain, it is my duty to help you relieve your stress in any way I can."

"I would appreciate that very much, Commander."

* * *

><p>Looking back, I've been fortunate in that I had a lifetime to carefully develop and hone my unique sense of mischief and humour. Miranda, on the other hand, did not have such an opportunity. You could say that, thanks to my questionable influence, she was making up for lost time. <strong>(5)<strong>

As a result, I honestly can't say for certain whether the next couple hours we spent having mad, passionate sex—after double-checking that her quarters were free of any surveillance devices—was due to our developing relationship or due to the pleasure she got from flipping the proverbial bird to her former boss.

All I know was that I had no reason to complain. I can't say the same about her desk, though. Or the chair. Or the carpet.

As enjoyable as the post-mission 'exercise' was, however, I couldn't put off TIMMy forever. Actually, that's not quite accurate. I would be perfectly fine keeping TIMmy on hold until the cows came home. What I couldn't put off, however, was seeing the look on TIMmy's face after I'd effectively told him to jump in a lake. So it was with great reluctance—and anticipation—that I left Miranda's quarters and headed up to the comm room. There was quite a lot of debris that hadn't been cleaned up from the Normandy's crash landing. Metal girders ajar, loose cables sparking, that sort of thing. Which meant I took my sweet time carefully negotiating the impromptu hazard course between me and the comm room. Just so I didn't twist an ankle or hit my head, you understand.

Come to think of it, that might have been another reason for why he was so mad when I answered his communications request. **(6)** I don't think I had ever seen him so darn pissed. He was scowling, no, _glaring_ at me. His jaw was clenched. I swear I could see a vein throbbing in the side of his neck. And when he took his cigarette out, I briefly glimpsed teeth marks embedded along its length—before he crushed it into his ashtray.

"_Shepard," _he said curtly. _"You're making a habit of costing me more than time and money."_

I took a minute to clean my ears. Very, very slowly. "Sorry," I said cheerfully when I was finished. "Having trouble hearing you. Getting a lot of bullshit on this line."

Yep, that vein was definitely throbbing. _"Don't try my patience," _he snapped. _"The technology from that base could have secured human dominance in the galaxy. Against the Reapers and beyond."_

"Human dominance, or just Cerberus?" I challenged.

"_Strength for Cerberus is strength for every human," _TIMmy replied, getting to his feet. He took a few steps towards me, silhouetted against the star that was on holographic display in his office. It was a different one, I noted. All blue instead of the usual mix of red and blue. Nice change. Just like the change in our unwanted working relationship. _"Cerberus _is_ humanity," _he insisted. _"I should have known you'd choke on the hard decisions. Too idealistic from the start."_

"I know what you are, and the price of dealing with you," I replied coldly. "We're gonna do things my way from now on. Harbinger is coming and it won't be alone. I'm going to make sure we're ready when they get here. You can fall in line or step aside, but _don't _get in my way."

I definitely saw a vein throb in his neck. _"You can't be serious, Shepard."_

"Yes, I can," I said cheerfully, planting a wide smile on my face. "I just choose not to."

TIMmy's jaw clenched again.

"Some of the time," I amended.

His fists tightened. This was fun.

"_You arrogant... insolent... don't you realize you're dooming not just humanity, but the entire galaxy?"_ he bit out.

"I think big," I offered innocently.

"_You sure that's what you want?" _TIMmy asked, eyes blazing in fury. _"You're taking a hell of a risk, Shepard."_

Actually, what I wanted was to do something that I'd been thinking about for the longest time. "Joker," I called out. "Lose this channel." **(7)**

TIMmy's scowling face, his beady eyes and the really cool backdrop abruptly flickered and disappeared. _"And... we're out," _Joker dutifully reported. _"Whoops."_

"Good job, Joker," I told him. I turned around to leave and stopped. "Enjoy that?" I asked.

"Actually, yes," Miranda replied, pushing her off the wall she had been leaning against. "Very much so. Now what?"

"Now we celebrate with the squad—not like that!" I burst out after Miranda raised an eyebrow at me. "Miranda Lisa Lawson, why I never," I muttered, walking out of the comm room.

I led Miranda to the cargo bay. Joker and the rest of the squad was there, trying to clean up things as best they could—there was only so much they could do about all the gaping tears and holes that went straight through the floor and out the ship's hull, after all. Stepping around strewn crates and barrier-covered gaps, I exchanged nods with Legion, Grunt, Jack, Garrus and the others. Seeing me, Joker stood up and handed me a datapad. Thumbing it on, I saw a bunch of pictures. Looked like snapshots of Reapers from different angles. "What's this?" I asked.

"Data packet that was tight-beamed to the Normandy just before the Collector base blew up."

"From who?"

Joker shrugged. "EDI thinks it might have been from the Collectors, but she's not sure." **(8)**

"We'll study this later," I said. "For now..." I passed the datapad on to Miranda and went to a corner of the cargo bay. Hopefully that floating eyeball hadn't—yes! They were still intact! Grabbing the crate, I took it back to the squad, who had now stopped what they were doing. I put it down, rummaged through the cups and pulled out a bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy and a small flask of some liquor that the vendor swore was very popular amongst turians and quarians. **(9)**

"Anyone up for a drink?"

_Editorial Note: On which salubrious note, this compilation of logs concludes._

* * *

><p><em>(1): Sudoku, in case readers were wondering. <em>

_(2): Only people of Shepard's character would be able to beat the odds and complete the mission with such spectacular success, but still feel guilty that they couldn't have done more. Shepard and Miranda would later revisit this conversation. _

_(3): While his laments were honest and heartfelt, they also served to dodge the fact that Gardner's last compliment was eerily similar to one made by his long-lost father._

_(4): This from the man who's pre-mission... activities may have been equally disturbing._

_(5): The horror, the horror. _

_(6): Logs indicate that Shepard's post-mission activities kept the Illusive Man on hold for two hours, thirty-nine minutes and eighteen seconds. _

_(7): As mentioned before, Shepard never cut short a conversation with the Council. It is telling that he chose otherwise where the Illusive Man was concerned. _

_(8): Specifically, EDI speculated that Harbinger may have been exerting direct control on the Collectors, through their 'Collector General' until the base was about to be destroyed, at which point it decided they were of no further use. Once Harbinger removed its influence, the Collector General may have had a brief interval of time with which to transmit this information as a final act of defiance after centuries of degradation and subjugation. _

_(9): It seems that Shepard bought these beverages at the same time he bought the Serrice Ice brandy for Dr. Chakwas._


End file.
